


It's Not Your Fault

by LordStannisTheGodDamnMannis666



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationship, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beautiful Golden Fools, Blood and Gore, Domestic Violence, Extreme Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Pain, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Content, Sibling Incest, Twincest, Tywin Lannister's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 54,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24457006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordStannisTheGodDamnMannis666/pseuds/LordStannisTheGodDamnMannis666
Summary: Robert and Cersei get in a fight, and Tommen and Myrcella see it. But will Robert get away with it? For a Lannister always pays their debts.
Relationships: Cersei Lannister & Tyrion Lannister, Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Jaime Lannister & Tyrion Lannister, Robert Baratheon/Cersei Lannister
Comments: 171
Kudos: 184





	1. What They Saw

**Author's Note:**

> Heya Crew, what's up!
> 
> I'm gonna say that in this, Tommen is about 4, Myrcella about 6, and Joffrey about 10.
> 
> I don't know if Robert would actually ever go this far, so he's probably a little/quite ooc, depending on your POV (but hey, let's blame it on whatever he's been drinking).
> 
> Any Criticisms, suggestions, or other comments are very welcome!

Cersei pretended to be asleep as Robert strode into their bedroom, leaving the door ajar behind him. She kept her eyes shut, her body turned away, as his heavy footsteps meandered unsteadily across the room. She hoped that he would, just for once, collapse into slumber as he laid down on the bed. But she knew Robert Baratheon better than that, and knew what excessive drink did to him.

Robert grunted loudly as he turned himself to face Cersei’s back, reaching a wandering hand lazily across her. She clenched her jaw and felt her body tense and Robert groped his way roughly over her figure, mauling her breasts, her stomach, her hips, and defiling her unblemished skin through her light clothing.

‘You’re dunk. Go to sleep.’ Cersei stated firmly with disgust, pushing his hand away from her.

Robert only grunted in response and moved closer to her, sliding his hand back down her waist to her thigh.

‘I said go to sleep, Robert.’ She reiterated, irritated, once again rejecting his advances.

‘I want to fuck, woman.’ He replied gruffly, his voice and breath thick with alcohol.

‘Then go find a mistress.’ She said angrily. ‘I’m sure you have plenty.’ _And do everyone a favour and get yourself killed on the way._

But the boar would not listen, and instead started pushing up the hem of her nightdress, his hand sliding unwelcome between her thighs. As Cersei tried to shift him away, he clambered forcefully on top of her, holding her down and forcibly pushing her legs apart, his weight suffocating, and his strength overpowering.

‘Robert, stop it.’ Cersei struggled, shoving her hands against his chest as he roughly pulled down one strap of her nightdress. One hand brutally pawed at her bare breast, the other held down her right arm, his fingers digging harshly into her flesh; she would have many bruises in the morning.

‘Silence, woman.’ Robert commanded, as he moved a hand down to reach into his trousers, still keeping an unrelenting grip on Cersei, ‘I’m bored of your complaining.’

‘Then let me please you another way.’ She offered as he pulled out his cock, somehow already hard.

‘Oh no, you’re not getting away with that.’ He scorned, his speech slurred. ‘It’s your cunt I want, not your mouth or your hand.’ 

Cersei made no sound as Robert unceremoniously thrust inside her, trapping her underneath him, a lioness caged. He grasped one of her legs by the underside of her knee, and held her down at the collarbone. Pounding violently into her, he groaned his own pleasure into her neck. Cersei closed her eyes as she tried to ignore the throbbing pain where Robert forced himself inside her, feeling a thin line of blood trickle down her thigh to match the unshed tears that formed in her eyes.

 _No._ She told herself _I am a Lannister. A stag cannot break a lion._

Fuelled by the possessive resentment and hatred that she felt in that moment, Cersei stretched her right arm out to her bedside table, feeling for the cold crystal of the glass against her fingertips. Finding it, in one swift move she smashed it against Robert’s shoulder, reminding him as he fucked her that the lion does not submit.

The lion cannot be tamed.

Taking advantage of Robert’s momentary shock, Cersei moved herself out of his grasp and off the bed, adjusting her nightdress, and trying not to wince at both the agony in her groin as well as from the glass shard cuts covering her arm.

I will not be treated like one of your whores.’ She blazed at him, breathing heavily, as he shoved away his erect manhood and came to tower over her. Cersei stared at him, defiant, as Robert retaliated, striking a fierce blow with the back of his hand across Cersei’s face, knocking her to the floor.

The lion will not be broken.

Yet unbeknownst to both of them was the tiny figure outside the door. Woken by the storm outside and seeking the warm comfort of his mother’s arms, he found only distress and confusion in the scene that unfolded before him, terrified as his father went to deal another blow.

**********

‘Cella, Cella wake up!’ Tommen implored his older sister, shaking her urgently from her slumber.

‘Mmh, what is it?’ Myrcella replied turning to face him, eyes heavy with sleep.

‘Cella I’m scared.’ Tommen stated, clutching Ser Pounce close to him.

‘Scared of what Tommy?’ she asked, startled by the torrent of tears running down her younger brother’s face, and the distress clear in his voice.

‘Scared of father.’ He cried ‘He’s hurting mummy again.’

‘What?’ Myrcella questioned, sitting up in her bed, suddenly alarmed as well. ‘Are you sure?’

Tommen nodded his head vigorously, choking on his breaths through his tears as Myrcella pulled him into a tight hug. She knew that her parents often argued, sometimes even heard it, but she never thought that it could be that bad. She couldn’t understand how two people who were meant to love each other, could hurt each other so much.

‘It’s ok, Tommy, it’ll be ok’. She assured him, albeit frightened herself.

 _But we’re lions,_ Myrcella thought _we must not show our fear._

When he had calmed down a little, Tommen sat next to her on her bed, leaning onto her shoulder, and sucking his thumb.

‘Where is mummy, Tommy?’ she asked after a pause.

‘In her room.’ Tommen replied timidly, eyes wide. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘I want to see what’s going on.’ Myrcella replied boldly, sounding much calmer than she felt.

‘Don’t leave me, Cella.’ Her little brother begged ‘I don’t want to be alone.’

‘I won’t be gone for long, I promise.’ Myrcella said. ‘You stay here and look after Ser Pounce, and I’ll be back before you know it.’

********

Myrcella padded silently through the hallway, her little frame making no noise against the floorboards. She really hoped that Tommen had misunderstood what he had seen, and really, really wanted to believe that her mother was fine. But as she neared her parents’ room, the sounds coming from within told her otherwise. Coming to the doorway she found the door ajar and nervously looked through the small gap. Her eyes widened in fear at the scene that befell her; she felt her lips tremble and her heart race, as her courageous facade cracked and faltered. She wanted to run and hide, but something compelled to stay, to find out what was going on.

Her mother was lying on the floor, clutching her hip and supporting herself on one arm as her father smashed his foot into her side. Once. Twice. The third was a strike of his fist.

But her mother did not cry out, did not beg for him to stop. Instead, she spat out the blood from her mouth and looked at her husband and said quietly, but surely ‘You will regret this. Mark my words, you will pay.’

‘You don’t threaten me, Lannister.’ Robert menaced, yanking her chin up firmly to meet his face. ‘You’re a contemptible piece of shit, and you’re worthless without your father. You’re only worth what he sold you for, to be fucked by me, and you can’t even do that properly.'

‘Fuck you.’ Cersei spat, slapping him hard across the face.

Furious, Robert reached for an empty wine bottle that he had discarded when he had come home, and beat it down on her head, glass shattering everywhere, and a deluge of blood poured over her body.

Myrcella had often seen her father drunk before, and he was always loud and forceful when he was. But she had never seen him like this, driven into a frenzy, as though he had gone mad. And she had never seen her mother look so vulnerable and powerless; she was always so strong. She had always protected her from the worst of father, and seeing her like this scared her more than anything she had seen before. Myrcella felt a pang of shame course through her as she realised that she could not protect her mother as she had been protected.

Not able to bear anymore, Myrcella fled, and Myrcella cried.


	2. Myrcella's Decision

Clinging tight to her younger brother, Myrcella urged the guilt and fear fade and be replaced by logic. She searched for a plan, or for anything at all that she could do to help. But the images she had seen were burned into her mind, and they refused to go away, even when she told them stubbornly that they did. not. scare. her. But they did, and she knew it.

 _A lion would know what to do_ she told herself sadly _but I’m only a cub, and there aren’t enough lions here to stop the stag._

With a sharp intake of breath, an idea suddenly presented itself to her.

‘Come with me, Tommy.’ She said, holding out her hand to her little brother, who took it without hesitation.

‘Where are we going?’

‘To a phone.’ She replied, determined, making their way downstairs and into the kitchen.

Why?’ Tommen asked.

‘I’m going to phone Uncle Jaime. He’ll help, I know he will.’ Myrcella said, jumping up for the address book just a little above her reach. Myrcella knew that Uncle Jaime loved their mother very much, he was her brother after all, and wouldn’t want to see her hurt. Besides, she much preferred him over her father anyway. Uncle Jaime would give her hugs, and take her out, and make her laugh. Father never did that. And right now, father was scaring her. Myrcella often wished that Jaime was her father instead, before remembering that it would be wrong because Uncle Jaime was her mother’s _brother_ , and brothers and sisters couldn’t do that. She didn't understand why though; if they were happy, and no one got hurt, why was it a problem?

Finally clasping the book in her fingers, she quickly flipped through the pages until she found Jaime’s number. Dragging a chair over, she climbed up in order to reach the phone.

‘Be careful Cella.’ Tommen said, as he gazed up at his sister in admiration – she always knew what to do.

‘Don’t worry Tommy, it’s fine.’ She replied, resolved on her task.

Holding the phone in her two hands, she swiftly dialled the numbers, tongue sticking out in concentration, and pressed call. Jaime picked up after four rings, and Myrcella let out a breath that she didn’t realise she’d been holding.

********

‘Cersei?’ Jaime called, lifting the phone groggily to his ear, assuming that no one else would be calling from their landline at this time of night.

‘Uncle Jaime?’ a small voice called after a moment of silence.

That startled him.

‘Myrcella?’ he asked, troubled. She shouldn’t be up at this time of night.

A long moment of silence ensued before Jaime heard crying on the other end of the phone.

‘Hey,’ he said softly, deeply disquieted by her distress. ‘What’s the matter sweetheart?’

‘Mummy’s hurt.’ He managed to make out between sobs ‘Father’s hurting her.’

 _Fuck you Robert_ Jaime thought, anger rising within him _what the fuck have you done now, you fucking bastard?_ He forced himself to calm for Myrcella’s sake.

‘Alright, darling, I’ll be over in a few minutes. Will you be ok until then?’

‘Yes.’ Came the weak reply, before Jaime hung up, throwing his phone down onto his bed in a rage. He hurriedly dressed himself, and collected his phone, car keys, and the spare key to their house that Cersei had given him, all the while thinking of all the ways that he could kill Robert.

He ran out of his flat into the rain, and got into his car. Putting his foot down on the accelerator, he drove as fast as he could to Cersei’s house, not caring what speed limits he was breaking, only thinking about his suffering twin and his young, unhappy children that he had failed to protect.

Arriving at their house, Jaime wasted no time in entering. As soon as he had closed the door he walked towards Myrcella, his heart sinking in his chest seeing Tommen with her too, their little faces red from crying. He went down on one knee and brought them both into a tight hug.

 _Look at what you’ve done to them_ Jaime cursed internally at Robert, upset himself at their heartfelt misery _Look at what you’ve done to two young, innocent children._ And Jaime knew that this would not be easily forgotten; Myrcella was perceptive beyond her years, and little Tommen was so sensitive to any hostility or disquiet.

‘I’m going to help your mother, and then I’m going to come back.’ Jaime said softly, pulling away slightly. ‘Stay downstairs, and look after each other, ok? He asked, receiving two timid nods in reply.

Detaching himself from them, Jaime ran up the large staircase. He had no need to ask where Cersei was; he could hear them from across the house. As he reached the top of the stairs, he met Joffrey coming out of his room, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

‘What the bloody hell is going on?’ He asked irritated, ‘And what the hell are you doing here?’

‘Just go back to your room, or go downstairs with you siblings. I’ll talk to you later.’

‘Why?’

‘Joffrey, I’m not asking.’ Jaime reiterated, perhaps a touch too sternly – he was just a child after all – but he knew that he could be difficult if he wanted and he really couldn’t deal with that right now.

‘Fine.’ Joffrey retaliated, and stormed back into his room, slamming the door after him.

 _I’ll make it up to him later,_ Jaime thought guiltily as he made his way to Cersei and Robert’s bedroom, _he’s probably just as confused as the others._

A few steps away from their room, Jaime heard a loud thud, followed by Robert’s voice resounding through the walls.

‘YOU FUCKING LANNISTERS ALWAYS THINK YOU’RE BETTER THAN EVERYONE. TELL ME, IF I SQUEEZE YOUR PRETTY FUCKING THROAT HARD ENOUGH, WILL YOU COLLAPSE JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE?’

Enraged at Robert's words, and fearing for his other half, Jaime kicked open the door, seeing for the first time the true extent of what was happening. Robert had a half-conscious Cersei pinned up against a wall, one of his huge hands wrapped around her throat, while he held in his other the broken top of a shattered wine bottle. Her body was covered in huge cuts and bruises, and her beautiful golden hair was stained with crimson from a huge gash just above her temple that spilt blood all down the side of her face and onto her neck and shoulders.

Jaime felt as though he had been shattered like the very shards that caused Cersei pain lying scattered all over the floor. He had one job, and he had failed. He had failed to protect her, and he felt his guilt and shame rest as heavy on his conscience as Robert’s hand was around Cersei neck.

‘I SWEAR I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU CUNT, IF YOU EVER-’ Robert had no chance to finish his threat as Jaime charged at him, using his full weight to knock him away from Cersei. Robert was a big man, a heavy one too, but Jaime was taller, and quicker, and as good a match as any for his strength. Every blow he aimed at Robert was vengeance, and every blow he received one more pain to match his twin’s. He would fight for her, now, always, whatever the cost to himself; Robert’s cause was fuelled by liquor, but Jaime’s by the fiercest love and loyalty of the impenetrable bond that he and Cersei shared.

Gaining the upper hand, Jaime landed a particularly forceful strike to Robert’s stomach, briefly making him keel over, choking for breath. He stood up soon enough however, the dark fires of rage burning in his eyes.

‘COME ON, LANNISTER,’ Robert shouted, taunting ‘COME AND DEFEND YOUR CUNT OF A SISTER. LET’S SEE HOW MUCH SHE’S WORTH.’

But when Jaime didn’t respond, and knowing his cause was lost Robert marched in a fury out of the door, slamming it with such force that the walls shook with the impact.

He had won. For now at least, the lion had defeated the stag.

Jaime heard the front door thud in the distance as he caught Cersei in his arms just as she collapsed to the floor.


	3. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime to the rescue!

As Jaime cradled Cersei protectively in his arms he didn’t dare to think of what else Robert had done to her before he had turned up. He wanted to hold her like this forever, safe in his arms until all her burdens and all her torments ceased to exist and faded away past distant memory.

But Jaime knew that if he wanted that to happen, he had to help her first. Cersei winced as Jaime slowly moved some of her hair aside to examine her head wound. His breath hitched as he saw it; it was both deeper and longer than he had feared.

‘Cersei, you need a doctor.’ He said, knowing full well what her response would be.

‘No.’ Cersei answered as fervently as she could manage, ‘Please don’t.’ The weakness in her voice pained him.

‘Cersei, I can’t do this properly. I don’t want to hurt you more.’ Jaime begged, fighting back the tears welling in his eyes.

‘You could never hurt me.’ She replied, her eyes pleading, and a tear rolling down her cheek, ‘Please, Jaime. I want you to do it. Please. I couldn’t bear anyone else.’

Jaime took a shaky breath in and nodded. ‘Don’t try to move.’ He told her gently, carefully laying down her head, and using his jacket as a pillow.

He went into their bathroom and retrieved a first aid kit that he knew Cersei had hidden there. Bringing it back to her, he knelt behind her head and took out a few pieces of gauze, which he pressed firmly onto the bleeding gash on her head.

Hands already covered with her blood, Jaime watched helplessly as it soaked through layers and layers, wondering tormented if he was watching his other half fade away. After what felt like hours of adding yet another layer after another, finally the bleeding seemed to slow down. Not daring to move, Jaime held her tight, silently urging her to cling on as he clung on to her; for there could not live one without the other.

‘Jaime, I-’ Cersei started after a long silence.

‘Shhh’ Jaime quieted her softly ‘you don’t have to explain. Not to me.’

Cersei nodded in silent understanding as her twin kissed her tenderly on the top of her head. Moving the gauze away from her, Jaime started to clean the wound. He opened the bottle of water that he found there, and poured it steadily back and forth over the gash, blood staining the crystal droplets crimson as they ran onto the floor.

Jaime’s chest constricted as Cersei flinched and whimpered at the acute stinging, hating himself for causing her pain, but knowing that he had no other choice. Having refilled the bottle, he soaked a cloth with some water and dabbed cautiously at the soft skin around the gash, then did the same with a clean dry towel that he had found.

When he had applied a dressing to the wound, Jaime repeated his process methodically with the smaller cuts, hating each and every sign of her hurt and mistreatment, but slowly and surely bringing more and more pieces of her back together. She was so beautiful, he marvelled, even after everything that she had been through, and Jaime longed to see a smile grace her face once more.

After, he got up and went to soak the towel that he had used for drying and to wash his hands of the liquid that had threatened to drain away his sister’s life.

 _Robert will pay for what he’s done_ he promised himself bitterly, _A Lannister always pays their debts. ___

____

Returning to Cersei, he gently began to wipe away the blood that had soaked into her golden hair, and had poured down her face, neck, and shoulders, wiping away the evidence of cruel and painful memories. Cersei was contented to lie still in a peaceful silence as Jaime worked, to close her eyes and to sink into his ever careful touch, his fingers deft but gentle, and his warmth and familiar smell a soothing balm.

____

After several long minutes, Jaime put the towel aside, satisfied that she looked much more like the Cersei that he knew, his Cersei, and not the woman that Robert had left lacerated and vulnerable. He lifted her up smoothly in his arms and placed her gently onto the bed, drawing the covers up over her. Jaime knelt beside her on the floor; taking one of her hands in his, and cupping her face with the other, he placed a light lingering kiss to her lips.

____

There was so many words that Jaime could have said to her then; so many apologies, so many promises of vengeance, so many words of unadulterated, unconditional love. But he didn’t. They could wait for a different time, be heard in a different place. He didn’t want to disturb the blissful stillness that surrounded them.

____

‘Rest now’ he commanded softly after a while, turning off her bedside light.

____

As he picked up the bloodied pieces of cloth off the floor and put them in the bin, Cersei’s voice called out faintly to him.

____

‘I love you, Jaime. So, so much.’

____

‘And I you, sweet sister, more than you know.’

____

But she did know. And even as Cersei’s eyes closed heavy with exhaustion, she could hear the sincerity, sadness, and pain in her twin’s voice; for she was his and he was hers, and the pain she suffered he suffered also with equal measure.

____

**********

____

Jaime closed the door softly behind him, daring to let out a sigh of relief. She was safe, and she would be alright.

____

He glanced across the landing, noticing that the lights of Joffrey’s room were still turned on. Collecting himself, he walked over to his eldest son’s door, and knocked three times. Getting no answer, he knocked again before letting himself into the room, surprisingly unlocked.

____

Joffrey was lying on his bed, his headphones on, and sporting a scowl.

____

‘Go away.’ He said forcefully as Jaime entered, turning himself the other way.

____

‘I will go in a minute’ Jaime reasoned diplomatically ‘but I owe you an apology first, and you deserve to know what’s going on.’

____

Joffrey hadn’t expected that; even his father never spoke to him in that way. A few moments passed in silence as he considered whether it was worth being bothered to listen or not. Deciding that he did actually want to know what was going on, he lowered his headphones sulkily to hear what his uncle had to say.

____

Not expecting to have gotten this far, Jaime was at a loss for words.

____

‘Look, Joffrey,’ he started, sitting down in his desk chair, ‘I’m sorry that I was stern with you earlier, but I needed to get to your mother. And I’m sorry that you had to hear that fight, you shouldn’t have had to.’

____

‘What happened to her?’ Joffrey questioned, not looking at Jaime. ‘I heard glass.’

____

‘She suffered a few injuries, but she’ll heal soon enough.’ Jaime settled on after some deliberation.

____

Joffrey shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond. ‘Did she deserve what happened to her?’ He asked finally.

____

‘Absolutely not.’ Jaime snapped, before reminding himself of his last mistake. _He’s only a boy,_ he thought _he needs to learn, not be scolded._ ‘No one deserves to be treated like that.’ He added, still stern, but markedly more gentle than before.

____

‘Father was drunk again, wasn’t he? I heard him come home late again.’ Joffrey said, briefly meeting Jaime’s eyes as he nodded in reply.

____

Chewing his lip, Joffrey looked as if he wanted to say something else, but thought the better of it.

____

‘You can say it, you know.’ Jaime offered, guessing what he wanted to say ‘I won’t tell you off for it.’

____

Joffrey looked at him nervously before taking a breath and quickly saying ‘I want to go to sleep.’

____

Jaime nodded, understanding, and got up to leave the room. He turned the light out, but just as he was about to shut the door, he heard Joffrey speak, anger and hurt lining his words.

____

‘I hate it when he’s drunk.’ He confessed.

____

‘I know, buddy.’ Jaime replied softly, closing the door behind him.

____

Letting out a long sigh, Jaime headed downstairs, only just now aware of his aching body parts from where he had fought Robert.

____

He did not have to search far before he found them curled up asleep on a sofa in the living room, Tommen leaning onto his sister’s shoulder, and holding his toy kitten close to him. Not wanting to startle them, Jaime stepped quietly over, crouching down in front of them, and placed a gentle hand of each of their heads. Myrcella, not in as deep a sleep as her younger brother, woke immediately at his touch, her eyes wide and watery with worry.

____

She remained silent as Jaime leaned forward to pick up Tommen, adjusting his small frame against his hip, and grasped the hand that Jaime offered her, her tiny fingers fitting comfortably within his palm. Tommen stirred slightly as he guided them attentively back upstairs, his head nestled into the crook of Jaime’s neck.

____

‘Is Mummy ok?’ he asked quietly, barely awake.

____

‘Yes, buddy. She’s ok.’ Jaime reassured him as his head nodded back against his shoulder, his worries put at ease. It was a half-truth, but a necessary one. Yes, Cersei was ok now – she was alive, and she was safe - but the hurt and scars she endured would take time to heal, and Jaime knew that they cut deeper than she would ever let on.

____

But he also knew that his golden twin would not be so easily broken; she was a lioness, and she bowed to no one.

____

Jaime tucked Tommen into his bed, making sure that he was fast asleep before carrying Myrcella back to her own room. Closing the door behind him, he made his way to her bed, noticing how tightly she was clinging to him. Going to lie her down, Myrcella squeezed him even tighter, so Jaime resolved to sit on the edge of her bed instead, holding her in his arms.

____

After a few moments, Myrcella started to sob into his shoulder, the first sounds she had made since he had found them.

____

‘Shh, it’s ok’ he soothed her, stroking her long golden curls, so much like Cersei’s, and holding her close. ‘Everything will be ok.’

____

‘Do you promise?’ she managed through shaky breaths, her emerald eyes looking directly into Jaime’s, teardrops flooding down her cheeks.

____

‘I promise.’ Jaime said, gently brushing away her tears with his thumb.

____

‘But father will be angry, won’t he? And he’ll hurt mummy again, and then he’ll hate all of us.’ She said sadly, looking down.

____

‘No, he will never hurt mummy again. I won’t let him, I promise.’ Jaime replied, kissing the top of her head. ‘You let me deal with him, ok? And he can’t hate you when you’ve done nothing wrong.’

____

‘But I did!’ she exploded, ‘And now mummy will hate me as well.’ She choked through panicked sobs, as Jaime realised that she was coming to the point that was truly bothering her. ‘Because I saw when father was hurting her, and I did nothing, and now it’s all my fault that she’s hurt.’ She finished, burying her face into his neck.

____

‘What?’ Jaime said, startled, ‘No, no darling girl, it’s not your fault. None of this is your fault. Don’t ever think that.’

____

He lifted her chin up to look at him. ‘Your mother loves you more than anything else in this world. You are so very precious to her, you and your siblings, and you could never do anything to make her hate you. Do you understand?’

____

She nodded meekly, but her sobs had calmed down.

____

‘It’s not your job to protect her’ Jaime continued, ‘that’s my job. To protect your mother, and your brothers, and you.’ He placed a kiss on the top of her nose. ‘And you were so brave and clever to do what you did. You mustn't forget that.’

____

Myrcella hugged him tight in response, at last finding comfort in his words and his embrace. It was not long before Jaime heard her yawn against him, and he arranged her comfortably amongst the covers as her eyes began to close, worn out by tiredness and emotion. Pulling a final blanket over her, Jaime heard her small voice murmur in the darkness.

____

‘Uncle Jaime?’ she whispered.

____

‘Yes, sweetheart?’

____

‘I wish you were my father.’

____

Jaime could only give a tired sad smile to her sleeping form as Myrcella succumbed to her weariness, finally at peace.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes alright, I’ll confess: I made Joffrey less of a shit than he is in canon. 
> 
> But to be honest, I do think that some of his problems come from the lack of fatherly attention and guidance from Robert (not that he could give good advice it even if he wanted to), so I wonder how different it would be if Jaime played a bigger role in his childhood.


	4. The Calm After The Storm

When Cersei woke late the next morning her head pounded and she felt dizzy. As she tried to sit herself up, she was hit by an intense wave of nausea, and she reached out her hands to steady herself. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ She wondered _I was fine yesterday._ It was only when she brought a hand to her head to rub her temple to relieve the tension and felt the bandaged gash on her head and saw the cuts and bruises on her arm, that suddenly the events of the previous night came flooding back to her.

 _Fuck_ she swore inwardly, cursing Robert, their marriage, and their stupid fucking relationship that only ever ended with hurt and pain. She got up, albeit unsteady on her feet, anger rising within her towards the bastard, ready to put him in his place.

But then she stopped.

She listened.

She heard….laughter.

The irate resentment started to slowly dissipate as she listened to the sounds of her children’s laughter resounding from downstairs. There was nothing fraudulent about it; it was pure, untouched, and Cersei let herself bask in the sounds of happiness and joy of the people she loved more than anything else in the whole wretched world. She wondered what they were doing that made them so blissfully content.

Then she almost kicked herself.

Jaime.

Of course it was Jaime.

Having dressed, Cersei walked downstairs slowly, a smile spreading across her face as she was guided in the direction of giggles and squeals of laughter. Finding the source of the delight, she lingered against the kitchen doorframe, content just to watch, not wanting to disturb the moment.

Jaime, as it happened, was making pancakes and waffles for the children, and putting on quite a show at the same time. He made them into funny shapes, told silly stories, and played the fool while making the batter and frying it, getting flour and batter mixture everywhere. Tommen and Myrcella giggled and laughed along merrily, easily entertained while eating their food covered with way too much syrup and heaps of fruits and berries. Joffrey, normally quiet and sullen, although not quite as cheerful as his younger siblings could not suppress a smile or two at his uncle’s goofiness.

 _He looks so happy._ Cersei thought to herself, bittersweet. _He would make such a perfect father. If only the children knew the truth. Myrcella and Tommen love him so much, and he even manages to get a smile out of Joffrey._

‘Mummy!’ Tommen suddenly exclaimed, pulling Cersei out of her thoughts. The little boy ran to her and hugged her tightly around the waist. She pulled him up to rest against her hip while he wrapped his little hands around her neck, and coming into the room properly, she raised an eyebrow at Jaime in faux judgement, provoking laughter from both twins.

‘Look Mummy, Uncle Jaime made us waffles!’ Tommen exclaimed with delight.

'And pancakes!’ Myrcella added, running up to her mother as well.

‘mmh I can see’ Cersei said happily, pulling Myrcella against her, and stroking her long golden curls. ‘But are they any good?’ Cersei joked with mock seriousness, already knowing how her daughter would reply – she always said the same thing when it came to Jaime.

‘They’re the best!’ Myrcella replied eagerly, detaching herself from Cersei, and ran over to wrap her arms affectionately around Jaime.

The twins caught identical gazes cross the room, a regretful smile playing on both their expressions.

 _I wish it could be like this always_ Cersei seemed to say.

 _I know_ Jaime silently replied. _I do too._

Still carrying Tommen, Cersei walked over to the sizeable table where the children had been sat, and ruffled Joffrey’s hair before placing a kiss on the top of his head. For once he did not pull away, but carried on eating instead. As she sat Tommen down, making simple conversation, Jaime could not take his eyes off her, enraptured by the radiant vision that was his twin sister. He was only pulled out of his trance by a small hand tugging on his own.

Myrcella looked up at him, one hand cupped around her mouth as though she wanted to tell him a secret. He knelt down so that she could whisper in his ear.

‘I think we should go out today’ she said, ‘Go somewhere that mummy likes, as a family. Can we, Uncle Jaime?’

‘We’ll see, my darling.’ He responded, as she beamed up at him. ‘Here, why don’t you take this to your mother?’ He added, handing her a beautifully presented plate of food.

Myrcella nodded avidly, and walked over towards the table.

‘Here, mummy. This is for you.’ She said, as Cersei received the plate with a ‘thank you, sweetheart.’, and allowed her to climb onto her lap, kissing the golden crown of her head.

Jaime watched the scene unfold contentedly, happy enough in that moment to resign himself to playing the role of uncle as he watched Cersei interact attentively with their children. _There she is,_ he thought, a grin spreading across his face _there's the Cersei I know._

When all had finished eating, however, he seized his opportunity to talk with Cersei alone, suggesting that the children go and get themselves dressed, hinting at the promise of something exciting, although he truly had no idea himself what that would be.

‘Thank you. For everything.’ Cersei said as soon as the children had left the room, stepping closer to Jaime, and falling in to his warm embrace, feeling more at peace than she had in a while.

‘I’m so sorry, Cersei. I’m so, so sorry. ’ He mumbled against her hair. ‘It’s not right, it’s not fair, and it should not have happened to you.’

‘It’s not your doing.’ Cersei replied into his chest, remembering the countless times that Jaime had offered to kill Robert for her, but she had pushed the notion away, no matter how much it had tempted her.

 _I would kill him if you’d let me_ Jaime wanted to say, his thoughts matching hers as always.

She lifted her head to look into his eyes, a slight frown creasing her forehead.

‘What?’ Jaime enquired softly.

Cersei shook her head gently ‘it’s just… how did you know to come?’

 _Shit._ Jaime thought. That was the one thing that he had hoped she wouldn’t ask about, but then again, this was his Cersei, and not some average person.

As his gaze met hers, Cersei could see guilt lining his eyes. After a long pause, he said hesitantly ‘Myrcella called me.’

Jaime watched with sympathy as she incline her head curtly and swallowed hard.

‘Tommen?’ she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Jaime nodded reluctantly. He didn't want to tell her, but she deserved to know. ‘Both of them saw.’

Cersei’s shoulders slumped and her heart sank as she let out a breath of dismay, closing her eyes firmly shut. She would not meet his gaze as she opened them again, and Jaime could see the overwhelming look of shame and upset in her eyes.

Jaime gently raised her chin with his hand to look at him. ‘Cersei, look at me,’ he said ‘please look at me.’ She did so tentatively, and it broke Jaime’s heart to see the depth of hurt in her eyes, lined with the tears that were falling silently down her face. ‘It’s not your fault, none of this is your fault.’ He said, repeating the words that he had uttered to Myrcella only hours ago, cupping her face and wiping away the teardrops with his thumb. But Jaime knew that she would not believe him; she had always tried so hard to protect the children from her and Robert’s arguments, and more often than not, it had worked. And the few times one of them had seen or heard something – well, it has never been anywhere near as severe as this.

Cersei tilted her face upward to him, and Jaime met her lips in a fierce kiss, as she sought solace in his warmth, and in the simple connection with her other half. When the kiss was broken, the need to breathe taking over, they pressed their foreheads against each other, and remained in this way for some time, arms wrapped around each other, shielded by the other’s protective embrace.

After a while, Cersei took a sharp breath in and gathered herself, so grateful for Jaime’s support and comfort.

'Where is Robert?’ she finally dared to ask after a long while of blissful calm.

‘I’m not sure.’ Jaime answered ‘But best guess is that he’s gone to that flat of his. Probably won’t be back in a hurry.’ _And I hope he fucking dies on the way_ he added silently. It was no secret that Robert had another flat in town where he would take his mistresses, and go when he had had enough of his family; both were frequent occurrences.

‘How about we get out?’ Jaime proposed suddenly, heeding Myrcella’s earlier suggestion, wanting to lift up Cersei’s spirits once again. 'Do something nice, take the children with us? We could all do with a distraction.’ After a moment he added ‘And before you say anything about attracting attention to _us_ , we can bring Tyrion too, make it a family outing.’ He knew it was slightly risky mentioning Tyrion, but he figured it was better to be safe than sorry, but also that she was probably too distracted to be bothered about her dislike for their younger brother.

And Jaime was right, as it turned out, for Cersei nodded her head definitively, without a word of protest against Tyrion.

‘Come on,’ Jaime said, taking the lead, as Cersei let out a small laugh at his resolve, wearing a smile that lit up her whole face, ‘let’s go find out what they want to do.’


	5. Reflections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise if I have massacred Tyrion's characterisation worse than the Red Wedding, which I almost definitely have.

As Jaime opened the door to Cersei’s house, Tyrion watched the group around him attentively. Tommen was fast asleep on his mother’s hip, completely worn out by the day’s events. Myrcella, equally as tired, but doing her best to try to stay awake, clung to Jaime’s hand, her head nodding forward onto her chest.

 _She does seem quite attached to Jaime_ Tyrion thought as they made their way inside _more so than ever before. I wonder if she knows the truth, even without really knowing._

Joffrey, slightly less sulky than normal, made his way to his bedroom with a mumbled ‘goodnight’. Tyrion was especially surprised with his recent behaviour; he had managed to go the whole day without getting into a bad temper _and_ without making many of his usual snide and abrasive remarks, although, granted, a few may have made it through the breach.

 _Well, at least one good thing may have come out of this; the drunker the boar gets, perhaps the more sobered Joffrey will become_ Tyrion reflected, Joffrey’s newfound respect for Jaime, his lack of insolence towards Cersei, and his tolerance of his younger siblings certainly not having escaped his attention, even if only just a minimal change so far. _It’s just a shame that it happened in this unfortunate way, and that I couldn’t have been the one to shock him into decency. And here I thought my teachings had been going rather well – not that Cersei had appreciated them particularly._

It had been a long day, full of laughter, contentment, and high spirits, but Tyrion could not help but notice Cersei’s sadness beneath it all. The shaky breaths she would take in to compose herself, the subtle touches Jaime gave to comfort and support. The sad, wishful smiles they would exchange, the ghosts of tears that lined her eyes at a sweet or innocent gesture of Tommen or Myrcella’s.

While he had been able to work out most of what had happened by himself, he did not yet know the full extent of the issue, but he figured that it must have been bad enough for Cersei to not only be fine with his presence, but to not make even one derisive comment at his expense. There was no love lost between them, but he knew that she was hurt, though she would never say it, and he found himself faced with the curiosity of feeling deeply sorry for her.

They had all known how Robert was and what he was capable of, and it pained him, despite everything, to see her wounded that badly, knowing that even she probably didn’t deserve what she had gotten. But what troubled him the most was that he knew how much it pained Jaime to see her hurt, and he was aware of the guilt that she would be feeling over what the children had seen. She was his sister after all, and he knew just how much she loved her children.

He was also aware of the impact that this could have on Tommen and Myrcella; they were sweet children and no doubt this would severely impact their view of their ‘father’. They were already affectionate towards Jaime and it would not help anyone for them to be treating Jaime like a father publicly.

Shutting the door behind him, Tyrion could see that Robert had come back in their absence and had left just as quickly; cupboards had been left open in the kitchen, and some of his things had gone from the hallway. As Cersei took Myrcella’s hand from Jaime and took her and Tommen upstairs to bed, he caught a glimpse of a scrawled note left on the small cabinet.

Before Cersei could see it, he slid it discreetly into his hand and went into the kitchen, sitting down at the table, with Jaime following suit, the first time they had been alone together that day.

But Jaime had barely sat down before he was up again, this time reaching for glasses and the last remaining bottle of liquor that Robert had surprisingly not taken with him. Tyrion watched his brother in astonishment: If _Jaime_ was the first to reach for the alcohol, then he knew that it had probably been worse than catastrophic – that was normally _his own_ job, or Cersei’s, and right now he had just lost miserably on that front. He stared confounded as Jaime poured himself a drink, then another, before looking off into the space in front of him.

‘Was it that bad?’ He asked his brother tentatively after a while, despite already knowing the answer, and held up the note with Robert’s writing, a crudely and drunkenly written _don’t fucking say anything to anyone or you won’t say anything ever again._

Jaime swallowed hard before nodding in response, taking the note from him before vehemently ripping it to shreds and putting it in the bin. ‘I’ve never seen the bastard like that before. So fucking drunk that he was almost… possessed. I never actually thought that he would, that he could…’ he trailed off shaking his head, before taking a deep breath ‘I never thought that I could actually be faced with the possibility of losing her, right in front of me. And that scared me, more than anything. I can’t live while she’s gone. I can’t lose her, Tyrion.’ He finished, his voice barely a whisper, his handsome face shadowed with torment.

‘I know.’ He replied simply. For once he had no clever words to speak. Nothing he said he knew would – could - console him. Jaime was almost a different person when it came to Cersei; she was one of the very few things he knew his brother to be completely serious about, and he knew to what ends Jaime would go to protect her. Nevertheless, he tried to force some words to form, even if only as a meagre solace.

‘But she is ok. She will be ok. She’s Cersei Lannister for fucks sake.’ That managed to draw a small huff of a laugh out of him. ‘I know how much she means to you Jaime, and your happiness, and the children’s happiness, means a lot to me, and for that I don’t want to see her harmed either. And she is my sister too, after all. Maybe not quite on the same level compared to you, but, uh, it’ll do.’ He added as an afterthought, satisfied to see a small smile tug at the corners of his brother’s mouth.

A heavy silence of mutual understanding fell between them as Jaime nodded and met his brother’s earnest gaze, and it was thus they were sitting as Cersei returned, in a comfortable yet sombre calm.

She sat down next to Jaime, not saying anything nor looking at anyone, and accepted the glass of whisky that Tyrion pushed towards her, downing it in one go before pushing it back to be refilled.

The three siblings continued in the quietude that befell them; no jests thrown, no questions asked, no accusations made. Just still. Tyrion could not remember the last time that they had ever been like this. Probably not since the day before Cersei’s wedding. Someone usually always had something to say, but not now. Nothing was needed. There was no point talking about the storm when the more pressing issue was to fix its consequences.

After what had felt like hours, Jaime turned to Cersei, and absently running his fingers through some strands of her golden hair, softly said ‘Need to change the dressing’, his voice quieter than a murmur.

She briefly nodded her assent as Jaime got up and walked over to the sink, wetting a cloth with tap water.

‘Tyrion, can you get some more dressings?’ Jaime asked. ‘Cupboard on the left.’

Tyrion did as Jaime asked as his brother set about prizing off the bloodied dressing and dabbing the wound with water once again, always so mindful of any pain he might be causing her.

As he searched, he noted just how carefully, how lovingly, his brother attended her; Robert could never have been like that even if he’d tried – which of course he never had. He had always disliked Cersei, and he’d never exactly been subtle about it either, but he’d used that as an excuse to treat her as he liked, and even more so when he was drunk. But Jaime treated her as though she were the most precious thing in existence, and in spite of everything, Tyrion found himself slightly in wonder of their dynamic, especially with all they had been through to make sure it survived.

He wondered if Cersei would have been different if she had been married off to someone more like Jaime. Would she have been less bitter, less resentful? Less hateful of the world around her, and less fiercely protective of her own? Probably not. She may have been less deeply hurt, but he supposed that his sister would never really have been that different unless she had married Jaime himself; for he knew that they saw no one else to match the other.

Finishing his task with the dressings Tyrion handed him, Jaime ran a hand down Cersei’s arm and took her hand into his, lifting it to his lips and placing a light kiss on her fingers, as she smiled softly at his gesture.

Sensing the need for them to be alone, Tyrion got up, and with an apologetic smile placed a hesitant hand on Cersei’s shoulder. He felt her tense, and she did not look at him, but she did not push him away, and he supposed that that was her way of accepting his offer of consolation. While it did not consume him, he often entertained the hope that peace could come between them; maybe this could be the start.

‘Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.’ He offered, as Jaime nodded, before turning to walk out.

Just as he was about to cross the threshold, Cersei’s voice answered him quietly.

‘Thank you, little brother.’ She said, as Tyrion halted in shock, turning round to meet her tearful emerald eyes briefly before she looked away with a sharp exhalation of breath, stunned by her own actions. Jaime’s features echoed the same astonishment that Tyrion had given him earlier, as he looked between the two people who meant the most to him, hardly believing what he had just witnessed.

Not knowing how to respond, with one nod of his head Tyrion continued out into the hallway, not wanting to do anything to damage the unparalleled moment. Yet moving into the darkness, he could not help but feel compelled to glance back at his elder siblings.

He watched from the hallway as Jaime tucked a piece of stray hair behind Cersei’s ear, and cupped her face gently, stroking his thumb over her cheek. He watched as she closed her eyes, and a peaceful smile appeared on her face. He watched as they met each other’s gaze and a silent communication seemed to pass between them, the other understanding perfectly without anything needing to be said.

But as he observed the twins, what he saw did not repulse him. It did not sicken him. It did not feel wrong, despite what everyone had been conditioned to believe, by nature and by law. How could it? They looked happy together, content and at ease. There was no hate, no pain, nothing conditional nor deceptive there – that came only in their separation. They had always been at their happiest around each other, that he had seen first-hand. It seemed….right, somehow, although he could not explain why. It just was. For a reason that he was sure only they could ever comprehend.

While he had always accepted his siblings’ affections for each other – albeit not having known anything else - seeing these small moments between them had made him understand more than he ever had before. That what they shared went deeper than anyone else could possibly know. That it was a love purer, truer, and stronger than many. He had witnessed how the pain of one was truly the agony of both, and how the joys and pleasures of the other they relished with equal measure.

And in that small moment then, Tyrion regretted the world that they lived in, a hard place in which he knew they could never truly be happy, so long as their bond was tainted and chained with silence, suffering, and condemnation. If they could not have the other, they could not feel completely, live completely; they could not be truly whole. He wondered if it would be like looking in the mirror and seeing nothing back.

He looked away and closed the front door softly behind him, deep in thought, as they leaned into each other's embrace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a sucker for believing that maybe with the right circumstances and the right time, Cersei and Tyrion could have come to an understanding and reconciliation, so yeah, if you want to see some real Cersei bitchiness towards Tyrion in this story, sorry!


	6. Remedy

Hearing the door close shut, Jaime placed a gentle hand under Cersei’s chin, his thumb glancing slowly over her lower lip, as she raised her emerald eyes to look deep into his identical ones. But it was more than just simply looking. It was seeing, feeling, understanding, all at once, a harmonious reflection of thought and sentiment. Cersei reached up to trace her own fingers over Jaime’s jaw as he leaned in and placed a soft, prolonged kiss to her lips, consolatory and loving, and so, so, far from the vicious rancour that Robert had long showed her. 

She sighed mellifluously against his mouth as Jaime deepened their kiss, welcoming his tongue into her mouth and tangling her hand into his golden hair. She relished in his touch that caressed down her shoulder, her arm, her waist, and back again, as their connection became ever more impassioned, and each touch took them one more step away from the harsh reality that called them twisted, and one step closer to the blissful dream where there was no one else to say anything at all.

Jaime could feel his desire burning for her, an intense fire that only Cersei could ignite in him, and had it been a different time and a different situation he knew that they probably would have fucked there and then on that kitchen table, nail marks biting into the wood, and saying fuck all to Robert and anyone else who might see them. 

But this was not one of those times, where pleasure was derived of lust and vengeance and the thrill of a secret on the edge of being spilt.

No. This would be formed from their deepest, purest love and everything that went with it, and he wanted to draw it out for as long as possible, to allow her to forget her pain, to lose herself in his arms and to let him be the perfect sweet remedy for all her troubles.

Jaime broke their kiss and pulled back slightly as an idea came to him, a small playful smile dancing across his expression. Cersei gave him a quizzical gaze as he got up and offered her his hand, which she took without a word. Not taking his eyes of hers, he took her other hand into his, and walked backwards into more space, before tugging her close to him and placing one arm around her waist.

‘What are you doing, Jaime?’ She laughed softly, a melodious sound to his ears, as an amused but sincere smile played across her features.

But he only answered her with a kiss, and placed his index finger gently against her lips to quiet her, a gesture to which she responded with a look of faux exasperation. Cersei scoffed at his complacency as Jaime matched her raised eyebrow with one of his own, and without disconnecting his gaze he reached one arm out to the side counter and smoothly pressed the ‘on’ button on the radio and dialled down the volume, hoping that something suitable would come on.

Much to his delight, his inkling had turned out to be correct; he held Cersei close against him as Brahms’ third movement of his third symphony sounded quietly into the room, courtesy of Myrcella’s new fixation with classical music following her recent piano lessons.

Cersei breathed a laugh against his chest as Jaime started to sway them gently, placing a kiss on the top of her head. He knew that she was remembering, just as he was, how they had used to listen as their mother played the piano, and how she had tried in earnest to get the twins to play. Jaime had been useless – not that he had tried particularly hard – and despite their father’s penchant for practice had much preferred to watch his sister play, observing as her hands danced effortlessly over the keys, and how her beautiful features would frown in concentration; it had only been after Joanna died that Cersei had acquired an acute dislike for playing music, although she wasn’t opposed to hearing the familiar pieces when she was with Jaime. He liked to think that maybe Myrcella’s obsession might coax Cersei back into playing again – even if only so he could watch her play like they used to. Besides, he knew that Myrcella would love it.

Letting the music dictate their rhythm, he guided them around in slow circles, each taking comfort in their closeness and familiar scents and touch. Sensing that Cersei wouldn’t object, Jaime took one of her hands, and detaching himself raised it above her head and steered her in a leisurely turn, as she gave him a look of amused incredulity, but nevertheless happily allowed him to direct her movements, and to lose herself to him.

Coming back to face him, Cersei wrapped her arms around his neck, and he around her waist, as they tilted their faces to meet each other in an unhurried kiss, taking the time to taste the other, and to re-explore the well-known territory as though for the first time.

They remained like that long after the music had since ceased, its melodies replaced by the harsher tones of human voice in animated conversation. Silencing the unwelcome noise, Jaime turned back to his twin, and in the dim moonlight saw in her eyes the very same feelings echoed within himself, a harmonic amalgamation of passion, longing, and honest love.

‘I need you, Jaime.’ Cersei murmured softly against his mouth, her voice barely a whisper yet thick with desire.

Jaime had no words in response as he nodded his assent against her, their breaths more and more laboured in their rising need. Taking her hand, he swiftly led her out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the darkness of the landing, once again pulling her into his arms and joining their lips together outside the door to Cersei’s bedroom.

‘No, not there.’ Cersei whispered breathless between kisses as Jaime groped blindly for the door handle, ‘I don’t want to be able to smell him when I’m with you.’

Understanding, Jaime redirected them clumsily to the spare bedroom, and having fumbled with the door, managed to close and lock it behind them. Turning back to Cersei he kissed her long and fierce as they held each other close, pressing their bodies flush against the other, not wanting any space to come between them in their blissful haze of desire.

Cersei slid her hands underneath Jaime’s shirt and pulled it up over his head, tossing it aside onto the floor. Roaming her fingers over the toned muscles of his torso, he groaned as she placed open-mouthed kisses down his neck and collarbone, feeling himself beginning to strain painfully within the confines of his jeans.

Cersei’s breath hitched as she felt his erection pressing against her, a clear manifestation of just how much he wanted her, needed her, and it only drove her equal feelings for him to increase more and more with every second, until they both burned for their other half, a fire hotter and more intense than any of that world.

A fire in which all others would perish, and only they would thrive.

Jaime turned them around and pulled Cersei backwards by the waist in the general direction of the bed. She giggled quietly as Jaime stumbled into pieces of furniture on his way in the darkness, but they nevertheless managed to reach their destination without any accidents, and without letting go of each other.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Jaime pulled Cersei to stand in between his legs, mouthing at the smooth skin of her lower abdomen as he pulled down her trousers, allowing her to kick them to one side. When they were off, she came to straddle his lap, grinding her hips against his with circular motion, and causing them both to moan at the much needed friction. Jaime reached out an arm to turn on the nearest bedside light, keeping a hand on Cersei’s waist as she removed her shirt, unable to take his eyes off her as her torso lengthened and her slim figure was revealed with her movements, mesmerised by her flawless, ethereal beauty.

Before she had even let it fall to the floor, Jaime was back on her, kissing her neck, her jaw, her chest, his hands and lips wandering over any skin he could find, his touch liberating where Robert’s had been imprisoning.

She sighed his name as he removed her bra in one swift movement, clinging to him tightly and gasping as he mouthed and sucked at her soft flesh, taking her erect nipples into his mouth and flicking his tongue across. Cersei let her hand fall down between them as they touched each other, her fingers tracing over the hard outline of his cock. Jaime thrust up to meet her touch, desperate for any release for the throbbing pain in his manhood.

Moving his hands down to grasp underneath Cersei’s thighs, he lifted her up and turned them around to lay her down on the sheets, getting up to quickly remove his jeans and underwear, watching intently as she bit her lip as his cock sprang free of its confines, and how she pressed her thighs together for some friction.

Coming back to the bed, he positioned himself on top of her, and kissed her hard on the mouth before making his way down her body, passing his lips over her silky, porcelain skin from jaw to navel. Cersei arched her body into his touch, moaning at his caresses and the feeling of his hot, hard manhood trailing down her stomach and thigh, leaving a thin trail of his arousal on her skin.

Jaime savoured her honeyed taste and the sweet sounds of her mewls and gasps as he kissed down the inside of her thighs, and slowly removed her remaining underwear, before coming to rest between her legs. She instinctively pushed her legs further apart and raised her hips, moaning breathlessly at his ministrations as he worked his mouth and tongue against her wet heat with the perfect precision of a lifetime’s practice, and of one who knew his twin’s body even better than his own. Cersei gripped his hair tightly as he reached a hand up to fondle her breast, covering his hand with her own in approval of his actions.

‘Jaime’ she called out incoherently amid moans, ‘Please, Jaime…I need…’ But she never finished her sentence – she did not need to - for he knew what she wanted, what they both longed for. He pulled himself back up on top of her, and with her fingers to guide him, thrust the full length of his cock deep inside her, both moaning in unison at their joining like every other time that they had been together; like lock and key they were sculpted perfectly for one another, and only they could undo the other, and unlock each other’s secrets.

They revelled in the complete feeling of wholeness as Jaime moved slowly inside her, slowing down time, and filling all of their senses with nothing but their other half. But quickly fervent desire took over tender passion, and Jaime picked up his rhythm, thrusting steadily to match the pulse of their identical heartbeats.

Cersei wrapped her legs around his hips as he slid in and out, holding him as close as possible, and urging him to never let her go, _to make her his_ , as they cried out each other’s names amongst moans of pleasure. Movements became erratic and all other speech left abandoned as they came shuddering together, in that moment two beings left alone in a world in which only they existed.

When all motion finally slowed and stopped, Jaime made to pull out, but Cersei’s hands on his neck and back halted him.

‘Don’t,’ she whispered, ‘Not yet. I want to feel you inside me for a little while longer.’

He kissed her gently in response, and collapsed closer onto her but still careful to take most of his own weight. He could have stayed like that for ever, with her, connected. It had been too long since they had been able to be together properly, since they had had the time for him to go soft within her, and to have the luxury of just lying in each other’s arms, even if only for a short while; it was a far cry from the hurried trysts and secret escapades that they had become so used to, and he would not let any of it go to waste.

Nonetheless, once their breathing had regained normality, Jaime removed himself from inside her, his seed and her fluids coating his manhood, and spilling out onto her thighs and the sheets. He rested his body next to Cersei’s on the bed, their legs entwined, his hand resting on her waist, and his face grazing hers, nothing needing to be said when they were thinking the same, and when everything was as perfect as it could be in that small moment of happiness that the world had allowed them to share.

 _This is how it should be_ he thought, as they lay in the comfort of each other’s warm embrace, slowly giving in with regret to slumber.

_This is how it should be always._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone’s interested, here’s a recording of the symphony that I mentioned, because why not :) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sc8iN8Kvs0M


	7. Quiet Disturbed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say a huge thank you to everyone who has commented on this, I really really appreciate it, and it truly means a lot to me! ❤️❤️❤️
> 
> And apologies for the lateness of the update; my laptop had a meltdown.

Jaime awoke the following morning to a summery sun beaming through the window and to the sounds of birds chirping merrily outside. 

A smile pulled at his features as he turned to look at the sleeping figure lying next to him; her smooth, porcelain skin glowed richly in the sun’s rays, exposed where the sheets had fallen down to her hips in sleep; her long golden hair, shimmering in the light, cascaded in perfect waves down her body, and spilled out onto the mattress below her. She was radiant, ethereal; a goddess. He thought it cruel that she had been made to walk an earth where no one was worthy of her grace and her beauty. Gazing at his sister, her breaths even, her features relaxed, Jaime realised that he had not seen her so at peace in a long time; in her sleep it was as though all wrongdoings had disappeared, taking with them all the pain and suffering that she had endured, until nought was left but blissful thoughts and joyful memories.

Seeing Cersei like that, safe and happy, he himself had never felt more at peace. 

Forcing himself to tear his eyes away from his sister, and out of his sweet reverie, Jaime directed his eyes towards the digital clock on the bedside table, and switched off the alarm that they had set the previous night, thankful that he had woken before it had gone off; his phone was strewn somewhere amongst their clothes on the floor, and he had not wanted to leave the warmth of Cersei’s side to get it, even if they were loathe be cruelly disturbed by the harsh tones of a blaring alarm.

They had taken a gamble that none of the children would need anything that night, hoping that they were so exhausted as to not awake from slumber to seek the comfort of their mother’s arms and words. Although that had worked in their favour so far, they did not want to risk waking after the children and incur the possibility of being found emerging from the same room in the early morning wearing the previous day’s clothes, or of one of the children going to wake their mother only to find her absent from a cold, untouched bed. In truth they knew that it would probably pass over Joffrey and Tommen’s heads, but Myrcella rose early, slept lightly, and was extremely perceptive, even in matters that she did not yet understand.

Turning back towards Cersei, Jaime moved himself to settle flush against her back, his hand curving protectively around her waist, and he buried his face against her hair, breathing in her sweet scent and basking in her warmth and feel of her body against his.

It was half an hour before the time they had set themselves to get up, so Jaime promised himself a few more minutes of contented tranquillity before he would wake Cersei. It was so very rare that they were gifted time to spend like this; to wake up in the morning in the same bed, and to be able just to hold each other, rather than hurried dressings and quick partings all in secrecy. It was so simple, yet they were denied it at every turn. Jaime thought with resentment towards the people who were allowed to do it every day and took it for granted, or even shunned the opportunity they had; yet he cherished any and every simple moment like this that they could share, never knowing when the next could be.

 _Why is it so hard to hold the person I love?_ Jaime thought sourly. _Because of people like him._ He answered himself with bitterness, brushing his fingers gently over the red marks and bruises the boar had imprinted on her skin, wishing that they could vanish under his touch, and hating that Robert had violated and treated her so. He craved nothing more than to wrap his hands around his throat and watch as his loathsome life drained out of him; with every injury that Robert had inflicted, Jaime felt the wound like a stab of a knife straight to the core of his being. If his twin was hurt, she would never suffer alone.

 _Yet if Cersei has been made a goddess to torment all men,_ he wondered, _how is it just that she should suffer at their hands?_

Pushing the poisonous thoughts aside, Jaime burrowed his face into the crook of her neck, holding her tighter, possessively, and let his mind and all of his senses be consumed by her and her alone.

Recalling the time after a while, he kissed gently down Cersei’s neck and shoulder, nuzzling his face against her smooth skin, as she began to stir gently next to him.

‘Jaime’ she sighed sleepily as he woke her with his touch, her beautiful emerald eyes fluttering open delicately as she turned in his arms to rest against his strong chest, fitting her head under his chin as he laid on his back, and entangling their legs together. He stroked a hand through her golden hair, and placed a kiss to the top of her head as she smiled against him.

‘How long have you been watching me?’ Cersei murmured against his skin.

‘Not nearly long enough.’ Jaime replied, grinning; his sister knew him very well indeed. ‘What were you dreaming of?’

‘Someone.’ She said cryptically.

‘Mmh.’ He responded, playing along despite already knowing where this was going. ‘Anyone I’d know?’

‘Probably, but I know them better.’

‘Oh do you? Well who is this mysterious person? What were they like?’ Jaime questioned, theatrically over-exaggerating surprise and ignorance. ‘Do I have any reason to be jealous?’

‘Yes, a number of reasons in fact. Quite problematic really.’ Cersei laughed softly before adding ‘He’s quite something you know.’

‘Do tell.’ Jaime said, ‘I will hear all about this man who has stolen my sweet sister’s affections.’

Cersei smiled at his feigned annoyance, before continuing ‘Well if you must, he’s tall, strong, unreasonably handsome,’ she disentangled herself and climbed atop him to straddle his lap, as his hands went to her hips, ‘Actually, it’s almost offensive how handsome he is.’ Cersei tried to keep a straight face as her brother raised an eyebrow at her with an amused expression on his face, before leaning down to kiss him lightly.

‘And that’s just the start. He has a perfect physique,’ she ran her hands up the muscles of his chest to rest on his shoulders, ‘a _very_ nice cock’, Jaime rolled his eyes at that, ‘and granted, while he may not be the most intelligent,’ he prodded her shoulder playfully, ‘and can be very reckless,’ he pretended to look offended while she bit back a laugh, ‘he is the most loyal,’ she kissed him once, ‘compassionate’ twice ‘loving’ thrice, ‘honourable man I have ever known’ she kissed him harder, ‘and I am not whole without him, for I am his and he is mine, and I am safe and happy in his arms.’ She pulled him by the nape of his neck into a long, fierce and impassioned kiss.

She traced a finger over his lips when they pulled apart, finally adding, ‘And he has the most charming smile that lights up his face, and makes everything bad go away in that moment.’

‘Oh really?’ Jaime teased quietly after a moment.

‘Yes really.’ She responded, laughing softly.

It was Cersei’s turn to roll her eyes as Jaime pretended to be deep in thought, and said after a long pause ‘Is it Stannis?’ To which they both burst out into unreserved laughter, with Cersei collapsing back down onto his chest. Stannis couldn’t smile to save his life, let alone the rest.

Jaime kissed her head as their laughter subsided, and she met his eyes wearing the most beautiful smile that he had ever seen; he had never thought it possible to love her any more than he already did, didn’t think the sea could hold any more water when it was already overflowing, and yet here she was before him, golden, perfect – a treasure. She was so rarely like this – so rarely allowed to be like this – and her words and her actions, and her happiness, her true happiness, meant more to him than any shallow wedding ring ever could.

_Although_ he brooded _it would not be so shallow if it were worn by me rather than the horned boar._

‘I love you, Jaime’ she said earnestly, reaching up to cup his jaw, and placing a finger over his lips to quiet him when he went to reply. ‘And I know you love me. And you and our children mean more to me than anything else in the world.’ But Cersei sighed sadly as she caught sight of the time, the icy blue numbers a harsh reminder that their sweet time together had to come to an end, the peace once again replaced by the conflicts of reality. ‘But promise me’ she implored, ‘that you won’t try to kill him, or do something stupid, as soon as you set eyes on him today.’

‘I know that it hurts you, what he does,’ she continued, interrupting him as he went to protest, ‘but it will not do anyone any good for you to do something reckless now, and I refuse to lose you because of him. There will be a right moment, but we must wait, must play the game properly, and then we will have our way, we always do. Promise me, Jaime.’

With an exhalation of breath Jaime conceded, nodding his head in compliance, recognising that his sister spoke the truth, before meeting her lips with his.

‘And anyway,’ she added as they broke apart, ‘what chance has a boar when he is trapped between two lions? Imagine all the pain…’ she whispered slowly into his ear, biting his earlobe gently as he let out a huff of laughter.

They held each other close as a comfortable silence fell, hearts beating and thoughts racing as one; for in their bliss, both twins had forgotten the tribulations that the day could bring.

A few long moments of this peaceful quiet passed, before Cersei willed herself to move, regretfully tugging herself out of her brother’s warm embrace with a final kiss.

Jaime let her go, as he had been forced to do countless times before, and watched as she shrugged on various pieces of scattered clothing, relishing in the movements of her body, and her grace in even so simple a task.

He was removed from his trance as Cersei threw his shirt at him, with an ‘Earth to Jaime Lannister!’ before adding with a laugh ‘you’ll need a good shower brother, else Cella will be the first to ask why her Uncle Jaime smells of Mummy’s perfume.’

As Jaime made a dramatic gesture of annoyance, Cersei smiled and blew him a kiss before walking out the door.

*****

When Jaime made his way downstairs only a few minutes later, showered and dressed in work clothes that he had collected from his flat the day before, he found it completely empty.

He was slightly disappointed to not see Cersei there, but soon recollected that her morning routine consisted of a lot more than just a quick shower and unceremoniously shoving on the nearest clothes in sight.

He so wished that he could be there every day just to watch her as she went about her morning proceedings. Jaime took great joy in watching his sister do even the most mundane of things; for one, they were no longer mundane when she did them, and secondly it allowed him to imagine what it could be like if they were allowed to share their lives bound together by marriage – they were already bound together as one.

He pictured her, clear as day in his mind, as he started to make coffee. Perhaps she, having finished her shower, sat elegant and poised at her dresser, clothed in her deep crimson robe that revealed the smooth velvet of her thighs and the valley between her breasts, as she fixed her make up – not that she needs any he thought – and brushed out her long silken curls of spun gold that he adored so much. He pictured how beautiful she would look, how intoxicating she would smell, how ambrosial she would taste if he were to kiss her sweet lips and soft skin.

He thought about how he’d move to sit next to her as she neared the end of her task, how she’d make a show of annoyance but laugh softly as he’d trail light kisses over her neck and shoulders, feeling the warmth radiating off her body next to his. He thought about how their breathing would intensify in anticipation as she’d discard the last of her tools onto the table as he’d snake an arm around her waist and caress her figure through the robe. He thought about how she’d lean her head back onto his shoulder and kiss him deeply as his fingers would wander to untie the satin ribbon holding the material together, and how she’d sigh as it would slip smoothly off her shoulders and gather at her hips, and then again as it would fall to the floor as he’d carry her in his arms to _their_ bed in _their_ house. He thought about how they’d sigh and moan each other’s names as they’d make love in _their_ time, nothing and no one in their way, before they’d wake _their_ children from slumber, and all would be peaceful and well.

So far gone was he in his thoughts that he did not notice the little figure that had padded quietly into the room until a small voice called out ‘Uncle Jaime, the kettle’s done.’

Jaime jolted out of his reverie with a start, whirling round to face his young daughter looking up at him quizzically, such the mirror reflection of the look her mother had given him the night before that he had to do a double take to make sure that he was truly out of his thoughts.

‘Yeah, I know that.’ He replied quickly, not really even registering what she had said.

‘It’s been done for nearly five minutes.’ She told him amused, one eyebrow raised.

‘Yes, but’ he said, picking her up and placing her to sit atop the kitchen counter as she giggled, ‘it always tastes better if you leave it.’

Myrcella tilted her head to one side as if contemplating the validity of his words before announcing ‘You’re talking nonsense.’

Jaime laughed heartily at her reaction, and threw his hands up as if in surrender, confessing ‘Ok, you got me!’, watching as a huge smile lit up her face; just like her mother, Myrcella loved to be right.

‘What were you thinking about?’ she asked innocently, as Jaime cursed inwardly – he was awful at making things up.

‘Nothing much.’ He replied casually, hoping that she’d drop the subject; but it was a futile wish, for if Myrcella was anything like her mother – which she assuredly was – she indeed could be very stubborn, and it did not help that he would always cave for them, no matter what.

‘You’re an awful liar Uncle Jaime.’ She said laughing, swinging her legs happily. ‘It wasn’t nothing. You were so far away. Someplace where nothing’s wrong. I could tell.’

He looked at his daughter intently, but kindly, as she spoke. It saddened him to hear those words, and he wondered how many times wished that she were somewhere else, when Robert was in a drunken fury, or when Joffrey was in a particularly cruel mood. He knew he could not protect them all the time without endangering them, yet when they were troubled or endangered, he could not always be there to protect them. He was in a loop that had no way out.

‘What do you think?’ he asked her, pushing his thoughts aside.

Myrcella screwed her face up in concentration, and Jaime smiled at the sight, before she said ‘I think you were thinking of something… beautiful.’

He couldn’t disagree with her – it was true after all. ‘That is a good guess.’ he said.

Fuelled by her success, she continued ‘Beautiful things… like mummy!’ and grinned, proud of her guesswork.

He started slightly, before realising that there was no way that she could possibly know the truth. But then again, he was never quite sure what Myrcella knew or didn’t know.

‘Well, you mother is very beautiful.’ He agreed carefully.

Myrcella nodded in agreement, her face lit up, adding ‘She’s even more beautiful than the most beautiful Queen in all the stories, and she’s the best Mummy ever, and when I’m older I want to be like her!’

Jaime felt his heart swell at her admiration for Cersei, looking at her with a loving awe, wondering how it was possible for such a perfect creature to exist.

 _Of course it’s possible_ he thought _she’s our daughter._ But as much as he loved Cersei, he would never wish her life on Myrcella - hell, he wished every day that he could give Cersei the life she deserved; his sister, and their little, sweet, innocent girl, deserved so much better than hurt and lies and secrecy.

‘But do you know what is even more beautiful than your mother?’ He asked as her face looked up at his with confusion, ‘You.’ He answered, dropping a light kiss onto the crown of her head as she giggled.

‘And you know what else is really, really amazing?’ he questioned as she shook her head, ‘Food.’ He said dramatically as Myrcella burst into laughter and nodded eagerly when he asked ‘shall we go find some breakfast?’

Jaime lifted her off the kitchen counter and they walked to the pantry, leaving the door ajar behind them. He could have sworn that he had heard some footsteps behind them, but glancing back, he saw no one, and put it down to his imagination.

But, as he lifted Myrcella up to reach something on the highest shelf, he thought he heard it again. Footsteps. Hesitant. Like someone trying to be quiet.

‘Cersei?’ he called out, ‘Joff? Tommen?’

Receiving no reply, Jaime put Myrcella back down and looked back into the hallway. Nothing. His brow furrowed.

He could not tell whether it was an illusion, or whether it was real, but he suddenly became intensely aware of his surroundings; the dim of the pantry seemed even dimmer, the warm room felt colder, the summer sun, previously brilliant and golden, now felt weak and depleted as it hid behind a cloud.

Myrcella seemed too to notice some change, and looked up at Jaime for assurance, lacing her small hands into his big one.

Stepping back into the kitchen they listened in silence. He heard a shuffling coming from another room, like someone searching, hunting. Jaime could feel his heart pounding, his mind racing, the cold breeze against his skin that seemed to sweep across the room.

 _Why am I so fucking tense?_ Jaime asked himself, irritated. _It’s probably nothing. Probably just a stupid stray cat that came in through a window._ But he knew the tension was not for the unknown, no. It was for the sleeping children upstairs, Cersei all on her own, the little girl clutching onto his hand. The ones he loved, and the ones he needed to protect.

‘Cersei?’ He called out again, bolder, hoping that she’d maybe not heard the first time.

But again only silence answered.

A dead silence that was suddenly pierced by the chilling sound of shattering glass and the loud _thump_ of a heavy object.

And then another silence.  


‘Stay very close to me.’ He whispered to Myrcella, who nodded obediently. He did not want to bring her nearer to possible danger, but he could not leave her alone with whatever, _whomever,_ was in the house.

__

Preparing himself, and holding tight to Myrcella, Jaime headed in the direction of the sound.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is it? What is it? What do you think?


	8. Conjecture

Jaime could feel the silence weighing heavy in the air as they crept slowly towards the living room. 

The shuffling movements had stopped; it seemed as though all were waiting.

They paused only metres from the door, hidden out of sight by the wall.

They listened.

They waited.

They heard nothing but the soft _tick, tick, tick_ of the clock; a countdown.

Then a creak.

Jaime felt Myrcella’s grip tighten, her breath hitching softly, and she leant in closer against his body as he stroked a gentle hand through her golden hair in an attempt to calm her fears.

_Everything will be alright_ he wanted to tell her _everything will be alright._

A long moment passed.

Gently, Jaime disentangled himself from the little girl, motioning for her to remain quiet, the ghost of a smile on his features at the little brave face that looked up at him, determined not to betray any hint of fear, so very much like her mother; a little lioness cub.

He moved quietly to position himself against the wall next to the doorframe, allowing him a glimpse into one end of the room, empty apart from the large bay window casting the sun’s rays across the floor.

Jaime saw no one.

Heard nothing.

Just the soft _tick, tick, tick_ of the clock.

Another creak.

He imagined the intruder on the other side of the wall, inching closer to his target, prepared, armed, ready.

Jaime did not care who it was. If they sought to harm his family, they were a foe, no matter what. And they would pay for it.

_A Lannister always pays their debts._

He swallowed hard and felt his jaw clenching tight. He felt the anger coursing through his blood, anger that someone thought they had the fucking right to threaten what he held dear. He felt his fists clench, the adrenaline surging through his body, prepared for a fight, the lion defending his territory.

Jaime exhaled; the clock seemed to tick faster, the wind seemed to blow harder, his heart seemed to pound louder.

He took a breath.

Another creak.

He made a move…

…And he stopped.

Every last drop of tension fell away as he heard it resonating as pure and clear as the sweetest water, and he a dying man, fading with thirst.

All his anger dissolved to dust as he threw his head back against the doorframe, eyes closed. Jaime let a smile slowly spread across his face as he listened to the dulcet tones of the notes resounding unadulterated from the piano, filling the silence with their melodious and soothing voices.

Feeling his whole body relax with relief, a soft laugh escaped him, and he shook his head with amused incredulity at his sister’s actions, wondering how long she had planned this; Cersei could never just do something simply for the sake of doing it, and her moments of spontaneity (or ‘recklessness’ as she would call it) were few and far between – there was always something else that came with what she did, and he guessed that they had been her target this time.

He glanced back to see Myrcella looking at him, her young face infused with confusion, yet her eyes dancing with curiosity.

Jaime beckoned her to come to him, and she followed his lead, always so trusting. It delighted him that she trusted him so, in a way that she never could with her supposed ‘father’. _And no one can take that away from me_ he thought, not when he had so few precious moments to share with his only daughter. He sunk down to sit on the floor, resting back against the wall, allowing her small frame to settle quietly in his lap, leaning against his chest, and tucking her head under his chin as he kissed the golden crown of her head.

Jaime watched his daughter enraptured as her confusion quickly gave way to a look of the purest joy, her emerald eyes shining brightly, and the most unsullied, genuine smile lit up her face full of unspoilt and childish excitement, admiration, and happiness as she watched her mother.

They sat in contented quiet, happy just to watch and listen as Cersei played. Jaime watched his sister attentive and in awe as her delicate fingers danced deftly and precisely over the keys, as smooth and swift as a river flows in the height of spring.

Others would say that it was not perfect, they would pick out the faults of the unpractised hands that glided over the ivories; the tempo is not right here, the notes not even there, the tone not always as it should be.

But Jaime did not care. To him it was perfect, perfect just like his twin, and beautiful beyond measure too. It was a beauty that was unquantifiable, just like the love he felt for the woman who was the creator of such an angelic scene – to hell with what had happened beforehand.

And as he watched her, he knew her expression even though her back was turned to him, could see her face as though it were right in front of him. She had her eyes closed, letting muscle memory be her guide, the music before her rendered useless, and a soft smile would adorn her features, true and gentle, while her eyebrows would occasionally knit together in concentration. He knew that she would be remembering; they both were. Jaime had recognised the piece from its first note; their mother had played it so often when they were young – they would, could, never forget it.

He knew she was remembering the days when that piece had brought comfort, had brought joy. How their father had watched Joanna play when he thought that no one saw. How the twins would crawl into each other’s beds at night, and fall asleep in the comfort of each other’s arms as they listened to the music that echoed sweet-toned and harmonious through the house.

It was a golden reverie that he was in, and he wished that it would never come to an end. He could almost, _almost_ , believe that this was a happier time, that this was their family, their house, that the sunlight they were bathed in would last forever, and that time would stop in that peaceful vision.

But just like all good things, it came to an end too soon.

A comfortable stillness hung among the three when the last note had sung its final song, and it was only broken when Jaime felt Myrcella shift in his arms and felt her weight and warmth detaching from him, as she ran over and threw herself in her mother’s arms, hugging her close in a tight embrace, as Cersei kissed her daughter’s head and buried her face against her hair.

He opened his eyes to that very scene - in truth he could not even remember when he had closed them, so wonderfully lost had he been – and met his sister’s gaze over the top of Myrcella’s head, dancing in the light just like her daughter’s.

‘Uncle Jaime thought you were an intruder.’ Myrcella said after a time, looking up at her mother, as Cersei let out a small laugh, looking down at her daughter and then back to Jaime with an amused smile.

‘Did he now?’

Myrcella nodded. ‘We heard noises and we thought there was a bad person in the house. Why were you being so quiet?’ She asked curiously.

‘I wanted to surprise you.’ Cersei said, tapping the little girl’s nose, as she giggled.

‘But then why is there broken glass?’ Myrcella asked confused.

‘It’s all part of the fun.’ Cersei said casually, kissing her head.

‘Sorry about that.’ She mouthed jokingly to Jaime, a little apologetic, although distinctly amused; Jaime grinned and shook his head, knowing full well that Cersei had absolutely no intention of making a sincere apology, whether she had meant what she had done or not - she was not one to back down easily.

Now that Myrcella had mentioned it, Jaime noticed for the first time the causes of their earlier unease; a shelf in disarray where Cersei had clearly been looking for the music, and a shattered glass vase on the floor, although he was not even sure that she had intended that as part of the ‘surprise’. He guessed that she might have just knocked it off or dropped it while trying to be quiet.

‘Can Uncle Jaime play like you?’ Myrcella asked her mother sweetly.

Jaime answered quickly before Cersei could offer up something detrimental on his behalf. ‘No, Uncle Jaime does not play like your mother, and before you ask, no, you do not want to hear Uncle Jaime play. It would be worse than the worse thing you’ve ever heard.’ He said as Myrcella beamed at him.

Cersei laughed. ‘Your grandmother always used to tell your uncle that he needed to practice more.’ She caught his eye. ‘But he was always much more interested in other things.’

‘What other things?’ their daughter asked innocently.

But Myrcella never found out what ‘other things’ had interested Jaime more, for they were not long interrupted by the light patter of more footsteps, and Tommen and Joffrey appeared in the doorway, looking bewildered and annoyed respectively.

‘Who was playing the piano?’ Tommen asked softly, rubbing his eyes clumsily, barely awake.

‘Mummy was!’ Myrcella exclaimed, wriggling happily in Cersei’s lap.

‘Since when do you play?’ Joffrey enquired moodily, irritated at having been woken from his sleep. ‘You woke me up.’ He complained.

‘Not for a long time. And it’s about time that you were up anyway.’ She answered, setting Myrcella down and making her way over to the boys.

Cersei tried to tuck a piece of Joffrey’s hair out of his face while he ducked in response, and crouched down next to Tommen instead. She stroked his hair as he yawned before sucking his thumb, clutching his toy kitten.

‘Why don’t you three go and get some breakfast, hm? I’ll be there in a minute.’ Cersei said as Joffrey started walking off, ‘Joff, help your siblings!’ She called out, as Tommen followed Myrcella out into the kitchen.

‘Did you mean to break the glass?’ Jaime asked amused when they were alone, standing up and walking over to his sister, leaning against the piano.

‘Special effects?’ She offered, biting her lip. When Jaime only raised an eyebrow at her, she added ‘Oh come on, it was an ugly thing anyway. I’ve improved it.’ After a pause, she added with a smirk ‘Did I really get you?’

‘You know very well what you did.’ He responded lowly, and leaned in closer to her, snaking an arm around her waist, and placing slow kisses down her neck where he felt goose bumps appear on her skin, and heard her breath hitch.

‘Jaime, not here.’ She warned softly, pushing him back gently with a hand on his chest. ‘The children could come in any minute.’

‘Could, but won’t.’ He said, glancing quickly to the doorway, and taking her hand on his chest into his own, he brought it to his lips without breaking her eye contact.

‘Jaime.’ She warned again, even though he could see her breaths becoming more laboured, her eyes a darker shade of green.

‘It’s all part of the fun.’ Jaime said, throwing her words back at her as she sighed a laugh, and before she could say anything else, Jaime reached to cup her jaw, and silenced her protests with his mouth against hers.

‘Jaime… we can’t…. the children…Jaime.’ Cersei whispered breathlessly between kisses, as she struggled between their reality and her untamed longing for him, murmuring her protests while allowing him to deepen their kiss, her hands starting to wander unbound over the muscles of his torso through his shirt.

They pulled apart swiftly as soon as they heard the shout of ‘Mummy!’ coming from the kitchen, breathing heavily, and reluctantly grateful for the unintentional interference; Jaime may have been reckless, but he was not stupid, and he knew that they should not have even gotten as far as they did. If they were anywhere else he would have carried on, the consequences be damned, but this was their children in question, and that meant that it mattered.

‘I’m coming!’ Cersei called back, hoping the slight shake in her voice would go over their heads.

‘Jaime that was foolish.’ She reminded him quietly, but the involuntary smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth, and the way she went to touch him but retracted her hand, did not escape his attention.

He laughed softly, and brought her into an innocent embrace, breathing in her honeyed scent before bringing his mouth to her ear and kissing it softly, whispering suggestively ‘don’t think that you’re going to get away with that little stunt you pulled earlier.’

Cersei sighed longingly, and gave him a playful shove. ‘I need to go to them.’ She said. ‘You coming?’

He nodded and kissed her forehead. ‘But I’ll clean up that glass first, or else I can’t promise to keep my hands to myself.’

With a roll of her eyes, and a quick caress of his cheek, Cersei walked out of the room as Jaime watched her go for the second time that morning.

*****

Just under half an hour later, Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella were breakfasted and dressed ready for school, usual complaints accounted for, and the five of them were gathered in the hallway as the children put on shoes and coats.

Jaime was helping a struggling Tommen to tie his shoes, and Cersei was finishing off Myrcella’s braids; Joffrey was on his phone.

‘Can Uncle Jaime come with us too?’ Myrcella asked her mother as she picked up her bag.

‘Uncle Jaime needs to get to work.’ She replied quickly, and kissed the little girl’s head ‘And so do I. You know we don’t have Taena anymore.’ Taena was the latest on the long list of house staff that Cersei had dismissed as soon as she had found out that Robert was fucking her, leaving Cersei, or occasionally Jaime or Tyrion, to do the school run, while she found a suitable replacement.

Myrcella giggled as Jaime made an over exaggerated pout behind Cersei’s back, quickly smiling sweetly at her when Cersei turned around, making Myrcella laugh even more.

‘Jaime you are not helping.’

‘I was being very helpful.’ He protested, laughing ‘I tied the all-important shoe laces. Isn’t that right buddy?’

It was Tommen’s turn to giggle and smile up at his mother, nodding. Jaime thought they looked rather cute in their little school uniforms.

Cersei sighed with amused exasperation, a smile on her face. ‘What am I going to do with you, hey?’ she said, mussing up Tommen’s hair, making him smile even more. There were few things that Cersei loved more than the satisfaction of knowing just how happy Jaime made their children, and how much they loved him, without even really trying, in a way that Robert never could even if he did lift a finger to try, another thing added to the list of his failures and Cersei’s triumphs - sometimes she wondered whether he even knew how old they were. But she did know that seeing them smile made Jaime happy. And that made her happy twice over. And she knew that if she were happy, and the children were happy, then Jaime would be happy too, and that meant a lot to her.

‘Come on you three, let’s get going.’ Cersei said as she opened the front door, taking Tommen’s hand and leading him out in front of her. Joffrey followed suit, not looking up from his phone.

Just as they were walking out the door, Myrcella turned on the threshold and ran back to Jaime, whispering in his ear as he crouched down to meet her, ‘You know, you watch Mummy a lot. I think you love her, like daddy should love mummy but he doesn’t. I see it in your eyes - you’re happy around her, and you make her happy too.’ She said tentatively, while Jaime tried not to show his horror on his face. ‘But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.’ She added, hugging him, before running out of the door, a triumphant and relieved smile on her face.

Jaime was rooted to the spot in shock. _Did she just say what I think she did?_ He had no idea how to react to her words, but he cursed himself all the same, for not immediately declining her insinuations, for not putting the idea out of her head. Shaking himself, he wondered if she even understood the implications of what she was suggesting, and how long she’d been thinking that, noticing things. He cursed himself for not being more careful.

He really was starting to wonder how much she really knew, and how much was just innocent childlike speculation that she’d forget sooner or later.

He hoped it was the latter.

Jaime sighed, and chuckled softly to himself, running a hand through his hair. He loved Myrcella with all his heart, he did, but her perception and curiosity really could be a pain in the neck – he blamed it on her spending too much time around Tyrion.

Closing the door behind him, and walking towards his own car, he knew it was irrational, but the morning’s events had put him slightly on edge, and as he watched their car disappear out of sight, Jaime could not shake a feeling of unease that had settled over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I get ya? 😄😄
> 
> And sorry if it's a bit slow at the moment, I know it's not for everyone, but I do promise some more dramatic things are coming... 
> 
> Any comments/criticisms/suggestions are always very welcome! <3 <3


	9. Accusation

When Cersei arrived at work later that morning she headed straight to her office to get her affairs in order.

Walking through the corridors of floor 49 of Lanniscorp & Co. headquarters, a large part of her had hoped to see Jaime, hoped that maybe he would have come to meet her, before remembering that their father probably had him holed up in some meeting or other, giving him a lecture on the importance of the Lannister legacy.

 _Not that telling him for the 1000th time will make any difference than the 1st_ she thought.

But instead she made her way through ‘colleagues’ – not that she cared enough to know any of their names - who all parted way as she walked past. The women may have looked at her with a mixture of envy and awe, and the men looked her up and down, lingering far too long in certain places, and turning to their friends to make a remark or two once she had passed, but no one dared to truly cross Tywin Lannister’s daughter.

The higher the floor, the higher the status, so it was Lannister family business politics went, and most of the people on her floor, aside from herself and Tyrion, were only there because they were relatives or some wingman of someone in Tywin’s circle of business associates; they knew their place was already precarious and they did not want to risk losing it, not before their time at least – they saw what happened to those who did.

She entered her office and closed the door shut behind her, closing all blinds to their prying eyes, the only sound the low hum of people conversing in the distance, and the occasional bird song from outside.

With a sigh Cersei sat down at her desk and took out her laptop, slowly starting to sift through the pile of paper next to her, hoping to get it done as quickly and efficiently as possible before her mind melted and her IQ dropped tens of points.

But it was all just so… boring. Uninteresting. Tedious. Repetitive. Lifeless. Sterile.

And it certainly did not help that thoughts of the previous night’s and that morning’s activities kept playing in her mind, a beautiful vision that she never wanted to fade, on a disc that she hoped would never break.

No matter what she did, within minutes Cersei could see him again; smell him, taste him. The feel of his mouth on hers, the feel of his skin against her, the feel of him inside her.

Her Jaime. Her golden twin and her other half. The only person that could make her whole. She had meant what she had told him, that she was safe and happy in his arms; it was truer than she could ever truly hope to express.

She admittedly did feel a little guilty for the scare that morning, knowing that her’s and the children’s safety was no joke to him, but the outcome had proved remedy enough, and so sweet had been the laughs and smiles that followed that she didn’t want to admit the fact that she had never actually intended to startle them.

She remembered the pure childlike joy on her daughter’s face, and it warmed her heart to see how much Myrcella loved and trusted Jaime, with no obligation nor debt, just free, unadulterated love and trust. Cersei had never wanted more in that moment than to have been able to tell them the truth about their real father – it had been so easy to imagine the life that could be theirs. She wondered too what her little girl had said to Jaime before they had left; she had been practically skipping with happiness to the car.

Cersei was deep in her thoughts when she heard the door to her office open and close swiftly. She did not need to look to know who it was; the footsteps were enough, as too was the inherent joy his presence brought.

‘How long ago did you get here?’ Her twin asked, coming round to sit on the side of the desk next to her chair.

‘Not long.’ She said, looking up at him, ‘You?’

‘Not long.’ He answered her back, smiling.

‘What?’ Cersei asked softly, as Jaime studied her attentively.

‘So beautiful…’ he whispered after a long moment, reaching out and cupping her face with a hand as she leant against it. ‘I can’t stop thinking about you. Whatever I do, wherever I go… can’t stop.’

‘So what’s changed?’ She teased, as he laughed in response, feeling the goose bumps erupt over her skin where his touch fell.

‘You do have a point.’ He said quietly, ‘But that still doesn’t change the fact that I want you all the time. To hold you, to sleep with you, just be near you, to give you a life you deserve, a life of our own. No more hiding, not from our own children.’ She kissed the palm of his hand. ‘I love you…’ he trailed off, swallowing hard.

Cersei took his hand in hers and stood up, moving to stand between his legs, and ran her hands up his thighs, his chest, and into his hair. ‘So have me.’ She whispered as she leant in to kiss him.

Jaime responded to her immediately, pulling her closer by her waist as he deepened their kiss, sighing against her mouth, while their hands started to roam over each other, tracing the well-known paths.

As their kisses became more insistent, fiercer, Jaime hopped off the desk and turned them around pressing Cersei up against the wood, and pressing himself close against her.

Cersei’s breath hitched as she felt his hardening erection against her abdomen, and she wrapped her arms around Jaime’s neck as he lifted her up onto the desk, sliding her tight fitted skirt up her thighs, freeing her to wrap her legs around his hips and hold him close.

But just as she started to tug at his belt, a loud ring resounded in the room. Jaime groaned in annoyance and continued to kiss Cersei harder, undoing the top buttons of her shirt and ignoring the buzzing in his pocket.

‘It could be important.’ Cersei said as the sound persisted, sliding a hand into his pocket and drawing out his phone, making sure to brush over his hard-on on the way.

‘Fuck important.’ Jaime growled, kissing down her jaw, and blindly took the phone out of her hand and placed it face down on the desk where it continued to ring.

Cersei thought the caller had finally given up when the rings gave way to Jaime’s voicemail, but she was quickly proven wrong when the chimes started up again, conveniently timed just as Jaime slipped two fingers inside her.

But her gasps and moans slowly gave way to suppressed giggles as the phone continued to sound, until she could fight it no longer and started laughing against her brother’s mouth.

‘What?’ Jaime laughed, amused by his sister’s response.

‘You should really answer that.’ She giggled, but was soon quieted as he thrust another finger into her wet heat.

‘Mmh, should I?’ he said lowly, kissing her neck as she gasped into him, vaguely nodding agreement.

‘Fine.’ He murmured against her ear, slowing his pace as she whimpered softly at the lack of movement, ‘But only to tell them to fuck off.’

‘Jaime Lannister.’ he answered, taking his hand out of her shirt to pick up the phone, but not removing his other fingers from inside her, nor creating one millimetre of space away from the soft warmth of his twin’s body.

‘Jaime.’ The steely voice of their father said, as Cersei bit her lip to stop herself from laughing aloud, and Jaime death stared the phone as though it were the cause of all his problems – which, considering the caller, wasn’t too far from the truth. ‘We have important matters to discuss. You will cease whatever foolish behaviour you are committing with your siblings and you will return to your office immediately. You have already neglected your work and your duty for far too long. And tell Tyrion to accompany you, I will speak with him as well.’

Jaime pushed his phone away as his father hung up, watching as it clattered over the desk and fell onto the floor.

Before he could say anything, Cersei yanked his mouth back against hers, silencing things that may or may not have been spoken, but that nonetheless would probably have soured the atmosphere more than it had already been tempered.

Following her initiative, Jaime took his fingers out from inside her and brought them to his mouth, watching his sister intently as his senses were consumed by her scent and her taste.

‘Come find me later.’ She said biting his earlobe gently, and started to button her shirt up and readjust her skirt.

With a final long kiss and a gentle smile, Jaime gathered himself, picked up his phone, and with a salute, closed the door between them.

*****

As Tyrion made his way down from floor 50 in the direction of his sister’s office a few hours later, he really, really hoped that she was in a good mood – at least by Cersei standards.

 _And if not,_ he thought, _god help us all._

He hesitated a moment before her door, contemplating whether it would be better to have a strategy to deal with this matter, before shaking his head and walking confidently through her door, though he most definitely did not feel that way.

 _The outcome will most likely be the same either way,_ he surmised, _may as well just get on with it._

‘What do you want, Tyrion?’ Cersei said flatly, not looking up from her papers spread before her as her brother hopped up into the chair on the other side of her desk.

‘Why do I always have to want something?’ he said ‘Is it really that unbelievable that I might just want to visit a member of my family without wanting something?’

‘Yes.’ She answered humourlessly, as Tyrion rolled his eyes and drummed his fingers against the desk in the silence that followed, as Cersei typed away forcefully at the keys.

 _Could be much worse,_ he thought, _although could be better too, but I may just get out of this with my head still on my neck._

‘So what do you want?’ She asked, fixing him with a stare. He stopped moving his fingers, raising his hands in surrender. ‘Aren’t you supposed in that meeting with father and Jaime?’ She said resentfully, returning to typing viciously ‘Isn’t that why father called you up there, to discuss _important_ matters?’

 _Ah,_ he mused, _so Jaime had been with Cersei. That may very well explain their identical morose behaviours. Cockblocked from sister by father, now that’s not something you hear every day._

‘No, no more than you sweet sister. Father only gave me a lecture about conduct and sent me on my way.’

‘Must have been a long lecture.’ She said through gritted teeth.

‘Standard length really.’ When she raised an eyebrow at him, he added, ‘I had other… preoccupations afterwards.’

‘You saw the start of it?’

‘Briefly.’

Tyrion winced inwardly; he knew he was on shifting ground that could collapse any minute. Cersei hated the fact that their father so very rarely allowed her into his meetings, that he did not respect her hard work and cunning intellect and mind for business, especially when she was the only one who had really ever sacrificed anything for the good of the family name – and Tyrion had to admit; Robert Baratheon was quite a price to pay. He also knew she resented even more any slight hint that Tyrion may have gotten the opportunity over her, despite how seldom that actually happened, as well as the fact that Jaime would happily give his place up to either of them, but had not as of yet managed to convince their father to do so, or managed to do… anything, really. He loved his brother more than anything, but even he did have to confess that Jaime was a lousy candidate when it came to business and politics.

‘And?’ Cersei probed, trying unsuccessfully to sound nonchalant.

‘And what?’

‘What was going on?’ She sounded irritated now.

‘If you really want to know,’ he said ‘Mace Tyrell is sort of glaring at Roose Bolton, Bolton is glaring at Stannis, Stannis is glaring at Robert, Robert and Jaime are glaring at each other, and father is glaring at everyone. You’d be forgiven for thinking they were at war not a meeting.’

‘Well father does tend to have that effect.’ She said dryly. ‘Everything is a battlefield to him; something to gain, something to sacrifice, you know how it goes.’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’ He sighed, ‘But all the same, you would not want to be there Cersei. Not today, anyway.’ He added, not unkindly.

‘You don’t know what I want.’ She said bitterly.

‘Is Jaime part of it?’ He probed hesitantly after a pause, as she glared at him in response; neither dropped their gaze.

After what felt like ages, Cersei turned her head to one side with a sharp exhalation of breath, and Tyrion felt himself relax a little too. ‘You don’t understand. You never will.’ Cersei said quietly, and when she met his gaze again Tyrion saw no malice there, only a hurt that was concealed beneath layers and layers of steel and wrought iron, the one a constant strength of character, the second a resolve that only gets stronger the more it’s worked, the more it’s tested and abused and bent to the will of others.

‘Why are you still here, Tyrion?’ Cersei asked, irritated, breaking the silence that had fallen, and returning to her work. ‘I’m busy.’

‘Yes, I’m sure it’s riveting work. Fulfilling, and engaging.’ She ignored him. ‘Alright, alright.’ He said as she lifted an eyebrow, ‘It’s shit. A waste of time. Even Tommen could do it, but it pays extremely well, and it’s the Lannister Legacy, and a Lannister must have wealth and power.’ A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she worked.

 _Oh fuck it, and just get on with it_ he told himself.

‘Don’t freak out, Cersei.’ He added quietly after a beat.

A pause.

She lifted her whole head to look at her brother sternly across the table. ‘What are you talking about?’

He studied her closely before saying measuredly ‘I’m talking about the police officers that are upstairs questioning people. They want to see you too.’

‘Police officers? What the fuck do they want here? With me? Who else are they questioning? About what? Tell me.’ She demanded harshly.

‘They’ve talked to me, Stannis, father – well that was more of a polite enquiry before they tucked tail and bowed out backwards – and they’re questioning Jaime and Robert right now.’

‘About what?’ She hissed slowly, her green eyes glinting dangerously as she glowered at him.

‘About an accusation that someone made against Robert.’ He answered slowly ‘An allegation of Domestic Abuse, Sexual Assault, rape, battery, coercion, the whole lot, Cersei. The only reason they didn’t arrest him right away is because of his and your status, that and his friendship with Ned Stark. If Stark wasn’t head of the police, and didn’t think his friend was worth more than he is, Robert would already be in a cell and this investigation would have gone to public scandal status already.’

‘Why would they just make an investigation based on something they have no evidence for?’ Cersei said, raising her voice.

‘Apparently they do have evidence, Cersei, of what form I have no idea, they wouldn’t say, and also because of the children. Children involved always makes matters a whole lot messier. As for the why, I don’t know.'

Tyrion watched his sister as she turned from him to look out the window, looking out over the city below, arms folded defensively over her chest, her eyes glazed with the ghosts of unshed tears.

For the second time in a week, Tyrion found himself feeling deeply sorry for his sister, differences aside, and found himself unsure of how to react to her, completely devoid of the usual certainties that came when talking to Cersei.

She was angry, yes, hurt too, that was plain enough, but more than anything she looked confused. It seemed to Tyrion almost as though she were unsure how to react, unsure whether this was a blessing or a curse, and out of everything, that was what struck him the most. Many another person in her situation would be relieved, glad, to see justice served to someone who had done them so much wrong.

But not Cersei. She who had been so manipulated by the idea of family and legacy and duty, so eager for the respect of a father that only ever sought to sell her and use her, so abused by the husband that only saw her for what their father sold her for, and so consumed by her love for her children and for a man that she truly loved but could never have by law, - the people she would do anything for, lay down her life for - that she had forgotten what it was like to be allowed to have some justice, some reprieve. So sure was she that someone was out to deceive her, that there was a catch, that she had forgotten what it was like to be helped, to think without motive, had forgotten what it was to make a decision without a lingering threat or having to worry how it would impact those she loved and the _fucking_ legacy that had her trapped in its claws. That, and her pride and her stubbornness, had her convinced that this was her battle alone, one that she would win whatever the cost.

And over everything, a cold, hard, but beautiful shell that few could see beneath, and much less truly understand. Except… 

_Could it be…?_ He shook his head, pushing away the thought. _No, he wouldn’t have done it, he couldn’t have, he knows it would hurt Cersei too much, going behind her back. No, it’s too reckless even for him…_

‘What did you tell them?’ She rounded on him suddenly, shaking him out of his thoughts.

‘I told them I knew nothing on the subject, and that as far as I knew there was nothing wrong. But Cersei, I cannot vouch for what Stannis may or may not have said. And you know as well as I that there is no love lost between them. And the same goes for Jaime, we both know how much he hates to see you hurt; I may have been able to lie more easily in this case, but I cannot say the same for Jaime, and if that happens, if only one of them says something of the truth – and we all know what he does to you Cersei – then you’re going to have a hard time justifying and defending him, if that is what you want to do.’

‘Who did this?’ She shouted, ignoring his last comment ‘Who made the fucking accusation?’

‘No one knows.’ He said calmly ‘Father thinks you did it.’

‘He thinks I did it?’ She yelled furiously, slamming her hands down on the desk, eyes blazing at her brother, ‘Does he think I’m stupid enough to do something as foolish as that?’

‘That’s what I told him, Cersei, but you know our father. He cannot be convinced unless there is something in it for him or the legacy.’

‘Tell me, you’re meant to be the clever one around here.’ She scorned ‘Why would this benefit us at all? And don’t give me a clever little joke and say father suddenly cares about me.’

‘I don’t know. It’s far more likely that father will want to avoid a scandal altogether, shut it down before it begins. Maybe he’s just preparing in case a scandal cannot be avoided.’

‘What do you mean, preparing?’

Tyrion took a breath, his own voice rising. ‘If you really want to think about it that way Cersei, maybe he doesn’t truly think you did it, but you’ve got to hand it to him, you’re the most suitable scapegoat, and right now, if there has to be a scandal, business relations between the Lannisters and the Baratheons have been going downhill ever since they wanted to negotiate a larger share in the profits. This may be the best opportunity he has, if there is a public outbreak, to get rid of Robert and marry you off to another suitor, someone more worthy of a Lannister alliance, someone like Loras Tyrell.’

He felt the sting of the slap hard across his face as soon as he had finished speaking, and moved a hand to his cheek to help soften the blow.

Tyrion kept an eye on his sister as she sunk down into her chair, her forehead resting against the palm of her hand. She looked as exhausted as he felt.

‘Would it be so bad, Cersei?’ Tyrion ventured softly after a long moment, ‘For Robert to spend his life behind bars? We all know the truth of what he is, what he does. Why not let him get what he deserves?’

‘You don’t know anything.’ She said, barely audible.

‘Why are you protecting him, Cersei?’ he murmured ‘You don’t owe him anything – you hate him!’

‘You think I’m protecting him?’ She sneered, her voice no more than a whisper but carrying the venom of a thousand poisonous snakes. ‘Have you lost your fucking mind? I’d do anything to see him dead! To kill him myself! But I am a _Lannister_ and if you think for one moment that I will let myself be portrayed as a victim, as _weak,_ you are very mistaken. I will _not_ throw away everything I have sacrificed for a so-called justice.’

Tyrion sunk back against the chair as Cersei crossed the room and slammed the door shut behind her.

*****

Cersei collected herself as she walked up the stairs to the floor above, her outward appearance as calm as her mind was racing.

_Who thinks that they have the fucking right to do this? How dare they! I am a Lannister, not some common whore to be investigated and questioned._

Pushing through the door at the top of the stairwell, she happened upon a scene markedly quieter than she had expected. The corridor was empty; she heard low voices coming from the meeting room on the left and turned to see Stannis, Tyrell, and Bolton through the glass, neither looking particularly pleased with each other nor the circumstances. She supposed that their meeting had been interrupted.

On the right were two smaller meeting rooms, both of which had blinds drawn down, and she could only guess that that was where Jaime and Robert were being interrogated. She wondered how long they’d been in there.

Just as the blinds started to go up in one of the rooms, she caught her twin’s eye as he emerged and walked past her, unable to hold her gaze for more than a few seconds before he looked away, hurt and guilt apparent on his face.

As cruel as it was, his expression relieved her a little, believing his guilt probably stemmed from the lies he had told which he knew were so very far from the truth.

 _But it’s for the best_ she told herself, watching him go; she would make it up to him later.

When she turned back round she saw her father conversing with Robert, the latter of whom looked absolutely livid. Cersei watched him too as he stormed straight past her, catching some of the mutterings under his breath of ‘Fucking Lannisters… always knew there’d be trouble… if Ned wasn’t my fucking friend…’

‘Cersei,’ her father said as she turned to face him, his voice low, but as cold and sharp as a metal spike in the heights of winter. He gripped her arm tight, and she looked directly into his steely gaze. ‘I hope you know what you are doing with these claims. Your brothers have denied any knowledge of such nonsense, as has Robert, and as have I, and you will do the same, for the good of this family and the business, and you will end this mindless charade that you are playing. Your brother will remove his presence from your house, and your husband will stop hiding away, and you will control your family. Do you understand?’ He spat vehemently. ‘Lannisters don’t act like fools. Now go.’ He finished, releasing his grip on her.

Cersei held her head high and walked towards where the two police officers were waiting. One was tall and blonde with a broad face and crooked nose and looked somehow familiar, and the other was shorter, with shaggy black hair whom she recognised as Jory Cassel; both had replaced service uniforms for simple suits.

 _Of course,_ Cersei laughed to herself _Of course Ned Stark would send Jory Cassel to do it; let his faithful dog run the errands and bring back what he wants to hear._

‘You wanted to see me?’ Cersei said addressing the pair.

‘Yes, Mrs Baratheon.’ Cassel answered with his thick northern accent as she cringed inwardly at the use of the name, and he gestured for her to sit in the first meeting room as they followed her in and shut the door. ‘Officer Tarth and I need to ask you a few questions about your husband. I’m sure you’ve heard about the allegations that have been made.’

_Tarth, why did the name Tarth sound familiar?_

Cersei nodded curtly in response, before narrowing her eyes suspiciously at the unknown woman; her eyes were so blue it was almost uncanny, and Cersei decided that she disliked her already.

‘So ask.’ Cersei said curtly, turning her attention back to Cassel. ‘I do not have time for nonsense.’

‘Very well. Robert is prone to heavy drinking, is he not?’

Cersei rolled her eyes ‘The whole world knows that.’

‘Perhaps.’ He said, ‘What is the nature of his behaviour when he is intoxicated? Is he more forceful than usual, does his language change, does he use threats?’

 _No shit,_ she thought.

‘Have you ever known my husband to speak softly, Cassel?’ Cersei sighed impatiently. ‘Robert does what any other drunk does – he drinks, drinks, and drinks some more, and then falls asleep.’

‘My brother said that the caller had evidence.’ She said, changing the subject, ‘What evidence? What did they say?’

The officers glanced at each other before Tarth spoke up, the process clearly not proceeding as they had planned.

‘Mrs Baratheon, it was an alarming report from the caller. They said, and gave examples, that they had reason to believe that your husband was abusing you – and not just on one occasion. They talked about violent fights with shattered glass that ended with injury, they described threats they claimed to hear your husband shout and an aggressive manner with which he treated you, and they mentioned…’ she faltered slightly, ‘They mentioned numerous incidences where they believed your husband was… forcing himself on you.’

Cersei tried not to flinch at the harsh truth of the words, her skin crawling at the memory of Robert’s hands on her. ‘And they said they heard this directly, saw this directly?’

‘No, but-’

‘Then how do you know that they’re not making this up? It’s their word against mine.’ Cersei challenged, raising her voice.

‘You need to understand that you are not at fault here,’ Tarth said, starting to sound slightly irritated by Cersei’s answers. ‘It’s your husband who may or may not have committed the crimes, not you. You do not need to defend him. We’re not here to blame you for anything; it’s your safety and your children’s safety that concerns us, and for that we need the truth.’

‘Do not presume to tell me what I need to understand,’ she warned ‘and _do not_ talk to me in that manner about my children. My husband has never laid a hand on them. And even if he were what you say he is, do you think that I would allow him to touch them?’

‘But what about you?’ Tarth said slowly ‘Can you look me in the eye and tell me that your husband has never laid a hand on you? That those bruises and cuts that you’ve covered up, or not covered, are the result of day to day accidents and not your husband’s hands?’

 _Shit._ Cersei thought, wanting to slap the woman hard across her ugly face. _I could have sworn that they were all covered. Fuck you, Tarth._

She hesitated for a brief moment, considering whether it would just be better to give them what they wanted, that maybe Tyrion had been right, before she remembered that Robert could easily pay his way out of a sentence, even if father chose not to help him; it would all be for nothing.

Making a show of looking directly into her blue eyes, her heart hammering in her chest as another opportunity slipped away, Cersei repeated slowly 'My husband has never laid a hand on me.’

The Tarth wench stared at her a bit longer before looking away. Despite Cersei’s wall and confident lies, she did not look convinced; it seemed as though she already had an answer, and just wanted it to be said, but Cersei would not give it to her, would not give her the satisfaction. ‘Why should you care?’ Cersei added after a beat. ‘What’s it to you, anyway?’

‘Because the law is the law, and it must be upheld.’ The blonde woman replied steadily.

‘And you ask me to believe that you truly believe that?’ Cersei said as Tarth started, looking a little flustered. _Ah yes, now I remember._ She thought. _Tarth – Catelyn Stark’s henchman._ Just as she went to speak, Cersei cut her off, speaking casually. ‘I heard a story once. About a woman who fell in love with Renly Baratheon – it wasn’t requited, but nevertheless it was still there. Renly always was outdone by his elder brothers, still is I suppose, but Stannis always hated him that little bit more.’ Cersei watched as the officer’s face grew even paler than it already was. ‘One day, a few years ago, Stannis made a legal accusation against Renly – fraud I believe, or something like that – who knows how much of it was true, but Renly always did think himself more entitled to things than he actually was.’

'Mrs Baratheon, I don't see how-'

‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘Renly sought Ned Stark’s help – which he couldn’t give, being head of the police – before he went to Robert, who too refused to help him, something along the lines of Renly needing to grow up and help himself. So that woman, the one in love with Renly, she sought to get revenge on Stannis and Robert, felt it her duty towards Renly, and in the process forwent her own duty as a law enforcer. She was suspended from service for a good time I believe, something about breach of duty and law.’ She looked sternly at Tarth, satisfied that she looked like she wanted the ground to swallow her up. ‘So don’t talk to me about upholding the law.’

‘Who made this accusation?’ She demanded, turning to Cassel. ‘I have a right to know.’

‘I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that, Mrs Baratheon, they specifically requested to remain anonymous.’

‘Why?’

‘They feared you might take it the wrong way; they didn’t want a backlash.’

‘Then what made them do it in the first place?’

‘As I said before, they had evidence-‘

‘I’m not taking about the bloody evidence. Why would they call?’ She questioned harshly.

‘They said that they were concerned for your safety and the safety of your children.’

Cersei laughed, as Cassel looked confused. No one in their right mind cared about what Robert did to her or her children except…

Her heart sank.

 _No. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t. Would he? Could he find it in him to betray her like this, after everything they’d been through?_ No, she refused to believe it. _But still, who else could have had those details…?_

Feeling the anger rising in her blood, she glared at Cassel and stood up, desperately needing to get out of that suffocating room. ‘If you’ve nothing more to say, I will take my leave.’

‘Of course.’ He replied, with a slight inclination of the head as Cersei walked past them and shut the door behind her.

Seething, she made her way to the elevator, refusing to look at the meeting room behind her, not wanting to see _him _, or any of them in there.__

____

_How could he do this to her?_ She thought as she descended down the floors. _He had no right. He had promised not to do anything stupid. He had promised. But now this. Had he been lying to her? What else had he lied to her about? Did his word mean nothing to him? Did she mean nothing to him? And father! How could he blame her for this? When she’d sacrificed so much for their fucking family?_

____

Filled with rage and uncertainty, Cersei pushed through the glass doors of the entrance to the Lanniscorp & Co. skyscraper, heels clicking furiously over the marble, and exited onto the bustling city streets, a clear destination in mind.

____


	10. Three Conditions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in updating - I know it's been longer than normal. Anyway, hope you enjoy. :) :) 
> 
> I’ve also decided to start something that I’m calling the ‘personable patent plug’ where I will shamelessly plug an awesome work of another author with each update, because I feel like giving more love to you guys (to hell with _you have already left kudos here_ ) who do some really amazing things for this ship, and if you haven’t already read the work, you should definitely go and check it out! (Obviously this is all with good intention, but of course if anyone gets offended for whatever reason I can easily change it!) <3 <3 
> 
> So to start it off, #1 personable patent plug goes to the 'All of us, intertwined' series by VictoriaGrimes (I couldn't choose just one of these because I'm obsessed with all of them, and they're all such perfect perfect beautiful gems). <3

The city streets were bustling as busy as her mind as Cersei walked swiftly to her destination, blocking out the incessant noise around her.

She didn’t register the cars, nor the loud conversations of others that passed her, nor the catcalls and vulgar comments aimed her way as she walked down the high-street. She heard nothing but the frustrating hammering of the questions in her head and the infuriating silence of no answers.

She couldn’t think straight, nothing seemed to make sense. Her mind wouldn’t focus, wouldn’t try to fit together the pieces jumbled before her, her thoughts kept jumping back to the same thing over and over and over, as relentless and restless as the wind on a stormy night.

_Why? Why would he betray her? How could he do this to her? Her Jaime, her other half, why, why?_

Nothing compared to this, nothing was worse than the betrayal of the only person she held dear aside from her children.

 _No wonder he couldn’t look at me,_ she fumed, _he knew how much he’d hurt me, and he couldn’t hurt me without hurting himself too._

Even the anger she felt towards her father was nothing compared to the feeling of betrayal, of being lied to, of being lacerated, stabbed, by the one person who was meant to love her the most. Any other person would have felt her wrath and the matter would be done with. But with Jaime, it was different, and so much worse. With Jaime, the knife was that much sharper, cut that much deeper, left a wound that much more fatal.

It was a cruel jape indeed.

And yet there was still a part of her that refused to believe it, refused to accept that that was the whole truth, a part that kept telling her that there was another explanation, that she knew her twin was better than that, the part of her being that was him said that she was being irrational, that this couldn’t be.

But her mind told her that her heart was in denial, told her that Jaime had betrayed her, and so on the agony went, round and round in vicious circles until she wanted to burn the whole city alive around her, her anger and frustration and hurt with it.

Mindlessly she found herself veering off the High-street and taking a series of lefts and rights down a number of smaller streets, heels resounding clear off the stone as she made her way to the only person who she knew could help her – and indeed the only person who she would want to help her.

The house at which she arrived a few minutes later was grand by no scale; it was small and rather simple in appearance, but it was well-looked after, clean and orderly, and every bit the same as its counterparts down the street. To any ordinary passer-by it was just a house as normal as any other. But Cersei knew different. Like any good master of its trade it did not betray its own secrets, but she knew that the matters which it concealed were a far cry from its ordinary façade, and that unlike the place itself, these matters were indeed very, very interesting.

Cersei climbed the steps towards the porch of the front door, glancing behind herself quickly before opening the flap of the hatch concealed within the stone.

She entered a code on the black box that it disclosed – 2952011 - and the lock clicked open, revealing an empty space save for yet another keypad, blue numbers glowing. Cersei tapped in a different set of numbers – 1382017 - and pressed her thumb to the pad, letting the little machine scan her print before hearing once again the satisfactory click of the lock. She took out a ring with two silver keys from its safe and locked up the contraption once again, before opening the front door and entering into the house.

As the door shut behind her, a silence hung in the air, and Cersei allowed herself to relax a little. Placing the keys onto a cabinet in the hallway, she made her way through the quiet house. On finding no one in the office room, she descended the stairs down into the basement; the door stood ajar, so she pushed through it into a well-lit room that still seemed dark despite the lights.

‘Ah Cersei!’ Qyburn said, looking up from his work with a smile. ‘What a pleasant surprise.’

Cersei returned a small smile before looking around the room. Workbenches lined the floor in orderly rows, and cabinets and shelves covered the walls, interspersed among graphic and grisly medical diagrams and filled to the brim with a whole assortment of vials and test tubes and conical flasks, jars and beakers and tubing and countless other laboratory equipment, many filled with strange looking solutions.

Qyburn’s curiosities did not phase her, however; if anything, his experiments actually interested her – at least, they were more interesting than most things that went on around her. She could still recall the time when she had visited his laboratory only to find him dissecting various parts of a mutilated corpse laid out on a table.

Oddities aside, more than anything she considered him a friend. He was loyal and trustworthy and clever, and he didn’t annoy her – which was much more than could be said for many. It also didn’t hurt that he had been the most skilled surgeon of his time, before he was expelled from the medical institute – some nonsense about unethical practices – and he now spent his time carrying out medical research, funded mostly by Cersei, and took on the occasional student to tutor if he deemed them worthy enough.

‘What are you making?’ she enquired, coming to stand next to him, her pounding thoughts temporarily quelled by the peculiarities around her.

‘A synthetic skin.’ Qyburn replied, adding some powder to a green tinged solution in a beaker, before stirring it with a glass rod. ‘I hope to increase the rate of cell regeneration, as well as the resilience and strength of the tissue. Healing surface wounds would be a much quicker process.’

‘Sounds like something Myrcella could do with on her knees.’ Cersei said quietly.

Qyburn laughed softly. ‘I hope you’ll forgive me for saying that the children were a source of reasoning for the project.’

Cersei returned a huff of laughter as she watched the older man work, actions precise and efficient as he made up a standard solution in a volumetric flask.

 _Yes,_ she thought, sporting a gentle smile, _I have grown rather fond of him over the years._

‘Does this go with it?’ she asked with mild curiosity after a pause, picking up a conical flask containing a thick dark red substance from the shelf above.

__

_Looks like wine_ Cersei mused, swirling the content gently, _or blood. But then again I suppose the two often go hand in hand._

__

‘Oh I wouldn’t touch that, Cersei.’ He warned amused with a proud flicker of a smile as she stopped swirling and looked at him intently with an eyebrow raised. Now she was intrigued.

__

‘Why? What does it do?’ she asked.

__

‘Demon’s Dance I like to call it.’ He replied, and Cersei could not help but notice the enthusiasm that had crept into his voice. ‘My newest invention. A fascinating substance, though disastrous for those who would ingest it. Came about quite by accident – it’s quite amusing really. While trying to find a way to slow down haemorrhaging, I instead found a way to intensify it. The poison slowly attacks the tissue of the internal organs, shuts them down and causes internal bleeding, before proceeding to close off the windpipe while dissolving the tissues of the eyes, so you suffocate, while your eyes effectively melt, and you bleed to death in unimaginable agony. I have also enhanced it with snake venom – it heightens the pain and causes extreme hallucinations for the victim; there’s no going back once it’s begun.’

__

_It sounds absolutely perfect for a number of people I can think of_ she thought.

__

As though he had read her mind, he added ‘You’d have to be very careful not to get any on yourself – only a few drops can burn through human tissue too.’

__

She looked at him quizzically as she set the flask back down. ‘How do you know it works like that?’ She asked ‘If it’s a new creation?’

__

Qyburn said nothing, but gestured to a large bag in the corner of the room, which Cersei made her way over to. The smell hit her long before the sight.

__

‘I see what you mean about the eyes.’ She called out, wrinkling her nose at the pungent smell of days old decay. ‘But why on earth are you still keeping it here? Surely it’s of no use to you now?’

__

‘Not to me, no, but I have taken a great interest in a new student, a very capable lad with a… an enquiring mind, shall we say? Some of his views really are quite fascinating. I would teach him about the effect of poisons.’

__

‘What’s his name?’ she asked, curious, turning back towards him.

__

'Ramsay Bolton, I believe. Small boy, dark hair.’

__

‘Bolton?’ she said, mildly surprised, ‘Roose Bolton’s bastard? Everyone says he’s a psychopath.’

__

‘Everyone said the same about me when I was completing my studies and later into my work.’ Qyburn replied simply, using a pipette to transfer some of the strange solution into four test tubes on a rack, each containing what she could only assume were some clumps of human tissues. ‘Crazy they called me. Immoral and diabolic. If I recall correctly, you were the only one who saw me differently. After I was expelled, you were the only one who gave me the freedom to further my scientific pursuits, and the only one who respected or understood anything about me or my way of work. You gave me my life, and for that I owe you everything.'

__

‘A talented mind like that should be tailored, put to good use, not wasted.’ Cersei replied quietly.

__

‘I quite agree. And if this boy can learn to control his… urges, psychopath or not, I think he may be able to live up to his potential.’

__

‘There.’ He finished, putting a stopper into the test tubes and placed them into a freezer. ‘Now, what can I do for you?’

__

‘I need you to find someone for me.’ she said calmly, pushing away the questions that had come flooding back into her mind. ‘Track a call, identify the caller.’

__

‘That can be done.’ He affirmed, and she followed him to another corner of the room where a number of screens stood upon a desk and more were fixed to the surrounding walls. ‘Where was the call received?’

__

‘The Police Headquarters, the one half a mile or so north from the city centre – Ned Stark’s offices.’

__

‘The one in Winterfell square?’

__

She nodded. ‘Yes, that’s the one.’

__

‘What time do you think it was received?’

__

‘Hard to say exactly. Probably early this morning, say around eight o’clock.’

__

Qyburn immediately set about his task, not even blinking an eye at what she had asked of him, despite knowing its illegality, and Cersei watched over his shoulder as he typed in numerous lines of code and instructions and navigated various sites and files that were completely foreign to her.

__

With every tap of the keyboard, Cersei could feel her heart pounding faster in her chest as the truth edged ever nearer, and she found herself growing more and more impatient by the second. She just had to know _who._ Had to know whether she could relax and plan revenge for the slight, or whether, whether… she shook her head; she did not yet know what she would do if it were Jaime. 

__

‘999 or 101?’ Qyburn suddenly asked, bringing her back to the present.

__

‘101’ she answered, and with a click a list compiled itself on the screen detailing the calls made between 0700 and 0900. 113 results.

__

As Cersei glanced down the list she saw several drunk drivings, a number of crashes, various abuses, a few violent brawls, a handful of frauds and thefts, a multitude of drug dealings, and an allegation of prostitution or two.

__

_What a wonderful city we live in_ she thought sardonically. _Though I can’t say they don’t deserve what they get._

__

Without needing to ask, Qyburn filtered the search, leaving the 19 cases of abuse. Cersei scanned through the comments listed next to the call time, and her gaze landed on one made at 0814 that read _Reported domestic abuse and sexual assault, recurring instances. Evidence provided of rape and battery. Victim has three young children. Suspect identified, known alcoholic. Case referred to head office._

__

Cersei felt the tension release slowly.

__

_Jaime,_ she thought, _oh my sweet brother, my Jaime. It wasn’t Jaime, it couldn’t have been; he had been with me and the children at that time. He hasn’t betrayed me, he had been good to his word, of course he had. He would never do something that he knew would hurt me, I should have listened to my doubts. But then who…_

__

‘Can you play the recording of the call?’ she asked suddenly, feeling the anger begin to boil again through her blood.

__

An obedient nod and a myriad of keystrokes later, the low beep of a telephone ring resounded in the room. It seemed to sound for an eternity before a man’s voice spoke through the speakers on the wall.

__

‘Good morning, King’s Landing Police how may I help you?’

__

‘Hi, I want to make a report of Domestic abuse.’ A woman’s voice replied and Cersei felt her jaw clench tight as she glared at the screen as though she could kill the caller through the machine. She would recognise that nauseating, saccharine voice anywhere.

__

‘Domestic abuse, you say?’

__

‘Yes, I think one of my neighbours is abusing his wife.’

__

‘Okay’ the call handler replied calmly ‘What is the nature of this abuse? What kind of things do you think have been going on?’

__

‘Well, I sometimes hear fights between them late at night – sometimes they’re just arguments, but sometimes I can hear it get violent.’

__

‘In what way?’

__

‘Sometimes I hear shattered glass or other objects and sometimes loud thuds. There’s never screaming or shouts for help, but sometimes I hear them shouting and I hear the sounds and after a while I don’t hear her voice anymore, just his. And then after those kind of fights I see him leaving the house in a fury and he just drives off somewhere, and the house goes really quiet. But it’s not just that - he handles her quite harshly as well, and he speaks to her quite roughly, tells her to hold her tongue a lot, even in front of other people; she’s neither meek nor frail, don’t get me wrong, but he is twice her size and prone to excessive drinking.’

__

‘Have you seen any evidence of physical violence on the victim?’

__

‘Yes, on occasion. She hides it well, but every now and then I do see the bruises and the cuts, often underneath the make-up. It’s only really visible if it’s on her face.’

__

Cersei slammed her fist down onto the table, making the monitor shake with the impact.

__

She _hated_ that they were talking about her, that they thought they had the right to examine her, like she were some prized mare for sale, and she hated even more the way in which that bitch was making her look weak, like she didn’t have control, and hated the call handler for not seeing through her obvious manipulations, and his solemn pretences of concern.

__

‘Okay. Is the victim in immediate danger?’

__

‘No, they’re not at home. It’s just… I’m quite concerned.’

__

The fake sickly sweet worry in her voice made Cersei want to gag.

__

‘I understand. Can I take your name please?’

__

‘I’d prefer to remain anonymous if that’s alright.’

__

‘Yes, of course, that’s fine. Can I take your contact telephone number for you?’

__

‘Yes, it’s 01865 266216.’

__

‘Great. What are the names of your neighbours, please?’

__

‘Robert Baratheon and Cersei Lannister.’

__

‘Okay.’ A slight pause and the shuffling of paper. ‘And what’s their address, please?’

__

‘It’s Westerlands Manor, on King’s Road, in the west of the city.’

__

‘Perfect. You mentioned multiple occasions. How long do you think this has been going on for?’

__

‘I’m not sure exactly – we only moved here a few years ago – but I think it’s been going on at least since we moved here.’

__

‘Okay.’ ‘Are there any other people in the household? Any children?’

__

‘Yes, three young children, two boys and a girl.’

__

‘Alright. And are you close with the children, have they mentioned anything alarming to you?’

__

Cersei tensed at the mention of her children, seething at the audacity to drag them into this; they had no right to even mention their names.

__

‘The younger two I don’t know well, but the eldest, I volunteer in his year group at the school once a week, he seems quite angry, but I think there’s sadness too, and I always wondered why, but he really hates talking to people who try to mention it. And then out of the blue I got a phone call from him last night…’ her voice broke up as ‘tears’ were heard on the line ‘…I’m sorry’ she said.

__

‘No, it’s okay, I understand, these things can be very upsetting, take all the time you need.’

__

She sniffled. ‘Thank you.’ She continued between the occasional ‘sob’. ‘He was very angry, with both his parents I think… there had been a fight the night before… but some of the things he said that he’d heard… that he’s heard his little siblings mention to each other… it sounded as though what he was describing was rape… even if he didn’t know… and –’

__

‘Turn it off.’ Cersei commanded Qyburn, loathe to hear anymore.

__

She refused to hear one more word of Margaery Tyrell’s sickening voice with her subterfuge and her machinations. She refused to hear how she had manipulated her son, her darling boy, into giving her details to fuel her little scheme. Now she knew why Joff had been acting so strange towards her that morning, refusing her touch and ignoring her with his phone all morning, when he’d been so good the day before.

__

She couldn’t trust anything that came out of the flower bitch’s mouth, all lies and deceit, and yet... if she was telling the truth about what Joff had said, even if just slightly true…

__

‘Cersei?’ Qyburn ventured, pulling her out of her ever intensifying thoughts.

__

She looked at him, meeting his kind gaze.

‘Would you like me to take a look at that wound?’ he offered gently after a pause, gesturing to her head.

__

‘No, it’s fine.’ She replied ‘Jaime saw to it well enough.’

__

He nodded. ‘As you say. I suppose it’s hardly as terrible as that hammer wound from a few years ago.’

__

‘Yes, I suppose so.’ She agreed softly.

__

She remembered that time, and all the many other times that Qyburn had attended her after one of her and Robert’s fights, all the times that he had provided her with his own creations of moon tea and given her his remedies for all her medicinal needs, never asking prying questions, yet caring for her and respecting her second only to Jaime.

__

‘If there anything you need, you know how to contact me.’ He said kindly, and she allowed him to squeeze her hands affectionately.

__

‘You’re a good friend.’ She said quietly, offering him a small smile, before turning to walk out of the room.

__

*****

__

Jaime was well aware of where Qyburn lived – Cersei had talked of him often enough – but he had never actually visited the place himself, and he now found himself wondering whether he was even on the right street. It just seemed too… normal. And from what Cersei had told him and from what he had heard from Tyrion, he had expected something from one of those crappy low-budget horror films, a grim shack or a dilapidated villa – not an ordinary brick house.

He was… disappointed, to say the least.

Disappointed, and now wondering which house could possibly be Qyburn’s.

Jaime parked his car and started to walk down the street full of identical boring houses, looking for any sign that told him which one was Qyburn’s.

Luckily for him, his disappointment in the surroundings and his growing impatience didn’t last long as he saw the familiar mass of golden curls appear on the steps outside one of the houses.

His heart skipped a beat as he saw her, not only for her celestial beauty, making everything look grey and dull and dirty around her, but also for the pain he saw in her eyes as she walked towards him; her features betrayed nothing, as was her way, but Jaime knew his twin better than to think differently, than to think everything would be solved in a single conversation.

Saying nothing, she walked past him and sat in the passenger seat of his red Ferrari, waiting for him to do the same. Jaime drove off in silence, stealing glances at his sister as she rested her head against the window, avoiding his gaze. She looked exhausted.

‘Father pulled some strings. The investigation’s been called off.’ He said hesitantly after a while, immediately regretting his words and preparing himself for the backlash.

‘No less than expected.’ She said, much softer than what he had anticipated, but Jaime could still hear the bitterness in her voice. He wondered how it would be any different if their father had showed even a shred of care for her.

He remembered the look he had seen on her features as she had walked past their meeting, refusing to look his way - it had chilled him, that pure expression of anger and hurt. It had not taken long for him to realise that she thought he had done it, thought that he had betrayed her; as Tyrion had said to him - rather sheepishly he thought -, ‘Well, you are the obvious choice.’

He had left then at once, excusing himself from the meeting to his father’s utmost displeasure, and had made his way to the one place that he knew Cersei would be able to find an answer, to the one person she trusted that wasn’t himself.

They arrived a few minutes later at Jaime’s penthouse apartment, and no sooner than the door had closed behind them, Cersei slapped him hard across the face.

‘How could you let me believe that you did it?’ she demanded, as Jaime felt the sting spread across his cheek.

Apologies were not generally Cersei’s style, and Jaime would never ask for one, but that did not mean she didn’t feel guilty, even if she never betrayed it. All the same, he figured that this was her way of apologising, conceding that she knew he hadn’t betrayed her.

Before he could say anything in response, Cersei yanked his mouth to hers and kissed him hard, pressing herself tight against him.

Jaime held her close when they broke their kiss, breathing in her scent as she rested her head against his chest. A minute later, however, Cersei removed herself from him and walked over to his drinks cabinet in his kitchen, pulling out a large bottle of whisky and pouring out a glass before downing it in one.

Jaime was not a drinker himself, but he always kept something in his kitchen in case Cersei or Tyrion needed it.

‘So,’ He said tentatively after a pause, making his way over to her. ‘Who did make the call?’

She refilled her glass before answering. ‘The Tyrell bitch did it.’ She spat with contempt.

It took a moment for Jaime to register what she meant.

‘Margaery? Why would this be of any interest to the Tyrells?’ He asked.

Cersei looked at him as though he had gone mad.

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ she flared at him, a lioness provoked. ‘This is perfect for them and that smirking whore knows it!'

 _Deadly yet still so beautiful_ he thought, watching his sister as she downed her glass again, before refilling it with the amber liquid.

‘The Tyrells aren’t stupid.’ she lectured, waving her glass at him, ‘Olenna, the old cunt, she’s behind this, I know it. They know that Robert’s on dangerous ground with the business partnership, and they also know that if he goes, they can manoeuvre in and obtain the partnership with father, so why not just get rid of him first?’

‘And then of course there’s Loras.’ She continued ‘That pillow biter would do anything for Renly – getting back at Robert this way is perfect for them; they can ruin him without stepping outside the law. The same goes for that Tarth bitch. It’s why the blonde whore was so adamant to get me to confess – she helped plan it all along! It turns out the only person they didn’t account for was father, and even then it doesn’t matter because they’ve just given him another excuse to set him aside when he feels like it.’

‘They even dragged Joff into it Jaime!’ she shouted, as he pulled her in to a tight hug, holding her steadfast until she stopped struggling and relaxed in his arms, burying her face against his chest.

‘They brought our baby boy into it.’ She said quietly against him. ‘And now I don’t know how much he’s seen and heard, and the little ones too…’

‘Shh’ he comforted, ‘don’t think about it, they'll be alright. Let me talk to Joffrey.’ He offered gently, tenderly placing a kiss to her hand, ‘I can take him out somewhere, spend some time with him – get him out of the house. Maybe he’ll relax a little, open up a bit.’

Cersei pursed her lips in thought before sighing and nodding gently. ‘Fine.’ She said softly ‘He’s responded better to you than to me recently anyway, he listens to you. Make sure he understands that the Tyrells cannot be trusted. But,’ she added, ‘just make sure he knows that it’s not his fault – that he didn’t, couldn’t, do anything wrong. He’s my baby boy, Jaime, I want the world for him.’

‘I know.’ Jaime responded, taking one of her hands into his and leading her to a large sofa ‘He’s my son too. I want all of our children to be happy. And I want you to be happy too.’ He placed a kiss to her temple before lying down, his head in her lap.

‘I stand by my offer, Cers,’ he added after a few long minutes later. ‘I’m serious. I’ll kill him for you, just say the word and I’ll do it.’

Cersei remained silent for a long while, raking her fingers idly through his golden hair and sipping at her drink. After a long moment had passed, he assumed that she had decided to simply ignore his comment.

‘Three conditions.’ She said suddenly as her fingers stopped moving. Jaime shifted his position to meet his sister’s gaze, sure that he had just misheard her. ‘One,’ she said slowly, putting her glass of whisky down, ‘we do it together. I will have an equal part in his suffering.’

Jaime sat up slowly, staring intently at his sister, unable to believe what he was hearing, and unable to work out whether he had gone mad or she had.

 _Probably the both of us_ he thought. He had never expected her to truly consider his offer, no matter how tempting or how sincerely he had made it; she had always said that there was far too much risk, had always chastised _him_ for being too reckless and unthinking about the consequences.

‘Two,’ she continued, as he pulled her into his lap ‘we will do it when I say we will do it, at the right time, not before and not after. We will not pay any consequences for the justice that cunt deserves.’

‘And three…’ Cersei commanded deliberately, taking care to enunciate each word carefully, and lowered her voice to an intense whisper as she spoke against his ear, slowly running her tongue across his earlobe, and her hands up and down his chest. He could feel the blood rushing to his manhood as he felt her hot breath on his ear, her touch on his skin, her sweet scent consuming his senses, and heard the gratifying yet unbelievable words from her mouth.

He swallowed hard.

‘We will take time to find the most horrific way for him to die. I won’t do it until I know that there is not a more painful way. I want him to suffer the most that it is possible for a person to suffer. And I want it to be slow, agonising, excruciating. I want him to beg for his life like the pathetic excuse he is. I want him to realise too late what happens when you wrong a Lannister. And then I want him to die. I want him to die, and I never want to look at the fat fucking bastard ever again. And when he’s dead and rotting and we have won,’ she trailed a hand lower to dip just beneath the waistline of his suit trousers as his breath hitched, ‘I want you to fuck me. I want you to fuck me hard and I want to feel you come deep inside me, and no one will be able to tell us otherwise. And if father thinks he can make me his puppet, I’ll make him look at the man who he sold me to like a whore.’

Cersei pulled back when she finished speaking, fixing him with an intense gaze, green eyes dancing with lust; he needed only see his twin to know what his own expression betrayed.

Jaime could feel himself straining uncomfortably tight against his trousers, and grew even harder as he thought about how wet she would be for him, how easily and perfectly they would fit together when he was buried inside her.

Pulling her by the back of her neck, he crashed their lips together with ardent intensity, opening his mouth to allow her tongue access. Cersei moaned on top of him as they ground their hips against each other, seeking each other’s warmth, and Jaime undid the top buttons of her shirt, kissing down her jaw to mouth and suck at her breasts, determined that they would not be interrupted this time. His twin, however, showed his own shirt no such mercy and tore at the fabric, uncaring of the buttons that flew off in all directions, and tugged at it fervently before throwing it aside onto the floor, unneeded.

Getting up off his lap, Cersei let her tight skirt fall to the floor, and Jaime took a moment to admire the smooth silky skin expanse of her legs before she knelt down between his legs, roughly pushing his knees apart.

He moaned as she ran a hand over the huge bulge at his crotch, before making quick work of the fly and reached in to pull out his cock.

Jaime bucked into her hand as he felt her fingers wrap around his hot, throbbing flesh, relishing in the release and the feel of her touch. His breaths became increasingly laboured and he groaned lowly as she ran her hand up and down his length, coating his shaft in his own sticky arousal, emerald eyes looking up at him, devouring him.

And he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Nothing compared to his sister. Every time he saw her she took his breath away, with her stunning ethereal beauty and her passion, her fierceness and her strength.

Jaime felt a shiver run down his spine as she pressed her lips to the base of his cock, the touch of her fingers already enough to drive him over the edge, and he trembled as she ran her tongue slowly up his rock hard length, feeling his manhood twitch under her ministrations.

He knew that Cersei loved having this power over him, the power to make him completely subject to her will. And Jaime was more than happy to let her have it.

He tangled his hands into her golden mane as she took him fully into her mouth, hands guiding but never forcing, and he shook with the effort of trying not to thrust into her warm, wet mouth as he moaned and cursed and sighed her name like a prayer as she worked her tongue and lips over his large pulsing cock, hand finishing what her mouth could not physically reach.

But soon the sight of her before him, the feel of her mouth on him became too much, just felt so good, and he knew he was going to come if she didn’t stop soon. Jaime pulled her mouth off of his cock, painful as it was to do so, and urged her back into his lap, kissing her hard. He manoeuvred out of his trousers and underwear, kicking them aside, and stood up as she wrapped her legs around his hips, carrying her to his bedroom and kissing and mouthing any part of her that he could reach.

Making it to his bed, Jaime laid her down smoothly atop the covers and relieved her of her final pieces of clothing, cherishing the sight of her heavenly and deific figure, before laying himself down on top of her with a long, fierce kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that a surprise or did you guess correct?...
> 
> PS: The codes! The codes!... :) :)


	11. Today is the Day: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update, another plug :) Personable Patent Plug #3 goes to A Lannister Wedding by lionwolves, because who doesn't want Cersei on the throne, a much improved Tyrion - Cersei relationship, and a wedding for the golden twins?
> 
> And did I name this chapter (and the next) for episodes on Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles (w/ Lena Headey as Sarah Connor)? Yup, yes I did. Because that show is awesome. Anyway, wrong fandom...
> 
> Also, I can only apologise for this update being so much later than I intended, and I hate to say it, but irregular and longer times between updates may start becoming more common with everything so hectic at the moment - but I promise that I will not abandon this fic, especially as I already know where it will go!  
> With that said, I hope you'll forgive me for this being so late, I hope this will be worth the wait, and I hope you enjoy... :) :)

A Few Weeks Later. 

The weeks passed in their own wayward time, as the twins continued to develop their plan, and Robert decided to pervade the house once again with his repugnant and unwanted presence. Some hours dragged on as mercilessly as the passing of years; others were over before they had even begun.

In those few hours of short-lived peace the twins schemed and planned amid passionate trysts and disguised ‘meetings’. Well, Cersei plotted and argued out loud while Jaime threw in a comment every now and then, not truly caring how it was done – he trusted that she’d come up with a better plan than he ever could -, and preferred instead to put his efforts into kissing his sister and getting lost watching her as she spoke. While that technique often earned him a reproach, more often than not it also lead to sex, and idea after idea was thrown out the window as they spent their time joined together in an ardent haze of their own making.

But for every blissful moment that Cersei shared with her twin, she was made to pay for it tenfold with her husband.

Robert seemed to be in a constant state of drunkenness, meandering unkempt through the house, and they spent most of their days avoiding the other, only exchanging a quick word or two if they absolutely had to – and most of the time not even then. It was perhaps lucky then that they worked in different office blocks.

The hostile glares and rancid mannerisms she could deal with, however, they were nothing new, nothing she couldn’t deal back with her own equal measure, but the nights told a different story.

The nights were always the worst.

Whatever defences she had constructed, and no matter how steadfast her stoicism, her fortitude, she still could not deny the pain of the nights, of the time that would drag by like nails over a chalkboard, and the throbbing soreness that would plague her for days after, only to be renewed as Robert decided to take his rights as a husband again.

And it fired in her an anger, a grit, a determination so great that she was sure that nothing could cleanse her mind until she had the stag in the lion’s jaws, and felt its blood run warm over her skin.

Yet she did not fight as he hurt her, did not struggle as he mounted her ruthlessly, as he fucked her until she bled, yet she also did not surrender, she never cried out, she never forgot. Her compliance was tactics, spite, never weakness. She had control over how the game was played, and her husband was fool enough to believe that he had the power. He’d gloat and jeer and think he’d won.

Yes, Robert would win his hollow battles, but she and Jaime would win their war.

But the price of her strength had cost her dearly, and every day Cersei felt the weight of exhaustion press heavier upon her shoulders. Her body looked as her mind felt, her head was heavy, and her flesh bore the marks that her strength had rewarded her. She was grateful, she supposed, that Robert had not since hit her where she could not cover, and Jaime’s blazing ferocity over the bruises and welts on her flesh was easier to placate, though never to dissolve, since they had already agreed on the ultimate fate of their unwitting victim - even if they did not yet know their method.

But what distressed her more than anything else, what anguished her thoughts and plagued her dreams, was the drastic change in the children’s behaviours.

Joffrey had become capricious, uncontrollable and unpredictable, lashing out at anyone and anything that irritated him. Where he had been manageable a few weeks ago, pleasant even, it was all gone, and Cersei bore the brunt of his stubborn sullenness and violent outbursts, his accusatory glares and mocking remarks, and no matter what she did, nothing seemed to get through to him, not when every day his behaviour became more and more like Robert’s, following his unruly lead in the absence of any proper male authority.

Myrcella, her sweet little girl, worried her the most. She had always been so pure, so sweet, so delightfully full of life, but now it was as if all the vivacity and spirit and brilliant curiosity had been sucked out of her. She was becoming feistier, uncharacteristically defiant, and refused to say a word to Robert or indeed even look at him; it broke her heart to see her daughter behave in a way that was so foreign. Cersei knew all too well the brave face she was putting on for her younger brother, trying to show that nothing was wrong, but even he seemed to sense that something just wasn’t right with his sister. Even the times that she would play with Sansa and Shireen, times that usually brought her so much joy, now only brought a forced smile to her features, and even Tyrion could not make her laugh quite the same as he used to. Cersei noticed Myrcella’s heart breaking attempts at happiness, but saw right through to the harrowing upset underneath, in dazzling emerald eyes shining not with the lively amusement of childish animation, but the glistening of unshed tears. And her heart felt as heavy as lead in her chest when she would utter the words of her new mantra ‘When can we see Uncle Jaime?’

‘Soon, my darling.’ She would tell her, and she wished it were true. But Tywin had made sure to keep his heir close by his side, watching him meticulously as the days went by, determined to keep him away from his sister and her children, so much so that even Cersei had found it increasingly difficult to spend time with her twin away from the watchful eye of their father. The one Sunday that Jaime had managed to get free had been the only day that she had seen her daughter smile, truly smile, her features lit up so beautifully that she could almost believe that everything was normal.

Almost.

For even little Tommen, the least changed out of the three, had grown more sensitive and clung more tightly than ever to his mother, highly attuned to the shift in atmosphere at home.

It was most evidenced in the meals the four of them would share, where food was only picked at, and no responses were given to Cersei’s futile attempts to get them to eat, to make them smile, or just to say anything at all, and she could feel the weight of their distress pressing heavy on her shoulders as they left the table one by one each in their own manner.

_The more people you love the weaker you are._

She held no love for the people around her, it was true, but she did have three points of weakness. Four people to love, yes, but Jaime could never truly make her weak, not when he was the other half of her strength, her power, the other half to make her whole. Not when together they were perfect, unbreakable and untouchable. But their children were not like their father, not yet anyway, and while they were perfect indeed, they were not yet unbreakable, not yet invulnerable, and her heart bled for them and she had never felt weaker than in seeing their deepest misery, even while her strength endured.

It was late after one such evening meal on a Friday evening that Cersei found herself wandering though the large en suite of the master bedroom, searching for something that she had long forgotten the identity of. She had of late taken to sleeping in one of the spare bedrooms, the one which she and Jaime had shared not so long ago, in the hope that she might be able to sleep in peace, thoughts of her twin surrounding her, rather than the stench of the boar who called himself her husband. But the more she distanced herself, the more Robert seemed to feel the need to impose his presence, and sooner rather than later she’d find herself back in their bed in his unyielding grasp as he took his pleasure.

She thought back to earlier when Tommen had fallen asleep upset in her arms, and she had settled him into his bed before going to do the same with Myrcella, only to find her little girl already fast asleep on the top of her covers. Cersei had kissed her head and pulled the covers over her, watching as her dainty fingers curled tighter around the stuffed lion that Jaime had given her two years ago, and hadn’t slept a night without it by her side. Unlike his siblings, Joffrey had only pretended to be asleep, his phone clutched in his hand under the duvet, but she had let it pass, and took the rare moment of his placidity to kiss him too on his golden hair, and to whisper into his ear ‘I love you’, before closing the door behind her.

Just as she abandoned her search, Cersei turned to the sound of heavy footsteps rambling unsteady across the bedroom floor, before hearing the creak of the bed as Robert’s heavy frame collapsed down onto it.

‘Come here, woman!’ he shouted, and from the state of his voice she could tell that he had been drinking. Again. Sighing, she rubbed her temples and made her way into the bedroom; of all the nights he could have chosen, he had to pick the one where she just did not have the energy to deal with him.

‘What?’ She demanded irritated as she stood arms crossed in front of her dresser. ‘What do you want?’

‘I’m fed up with those children behaving like fucking animals.’ He slurred, ‘You will make them behave themselves or I swear to God woman I will have it in for you. They’re an embarrassment and they need a good hard slap.’

‘You will not touch them.’ She said fiercely, feeling herself seethe as she looked her boar of a husband straight in the eye. ‘And don’t be so fucking hard on them. They’re just children and they’re upset, thanks to you. Nothing is their fault. And if you think for one moment that I will let you put your own faults onto them, you are very mistaken.’

‘I’m mistaken? _I’m mistaken?_ ’ He shouted back angrily, ‘A 14 year old boy should know to control himself. And the girl? An 8 year old should know to better than to have such an unpleasant attitude. I see you passed that down to her.’ He added resentfully.

Cersei did not hear him as he continued to rant, letting the insults and derogatory remarks fly over her head. She did not truly understand why it made her blood boil, why it lighted a fury powerful enough to raze a city, or why it made her heart crumble into a thousand pieces of ragged stone, but at that moment she did not care why. Just that it was true, she’d been right; he didn’t even know how old they were.

'14? 8?’ she spat, cutting Robert off mid-sentence, her voice trembling with disgust and hatred. ‘Joffrey’s 10. Myrcella is only 6. You dare to sit there and criticise, dare to insult and blame my children, when you are the source of the problem, and all you do every day is whore and drink and embarrass this family. They don’t respect you because you have never done anything worthy of respect. They don’t love you and bend to your every command because you have never shown them anything worthy to merit their love or obedience. They fear you, because of what you do. Does it make you feel better, more powerful, more like a man, to know that you scare young children? I’ll tell you what it makes you; a coward. And I’m glad they don’t worship you like you fool yourself to believe your whores do, I’m glad they hate you, because you don’t deserve anything else.’

Robert glowered at her as she finished speaking, his face burning red with anger.

‘I said it before, Lannister, and I’ll say it again.’ He growled, coming to tower over her, pressing her back against the dresser and grabbing her arm roughly. His breath was rancid, his smell worse, and her eyelids felt like lead, but all the same she forced herself to look at him. ‘You’re a cunt. Nothing more. You can say what you want about me, no one will hear you. No one cares what you have to say. Your brother might pretend to care, but he’ll lose interest in that game soon enough, mark my word - it’s not exactly as though he gets to fuck you at the end of it. Or does he? I wouldn't it past you yellow haired shits. And in fact,’ he pressed even closer, ‘if you don’t learn to keep your mouth shut, I might just drop a word to the next journalist that comes my way that Cersei Lannister is fucking her brother. Now that would be a story to remember wouldn't it?. ‘Now,’ he menaced, as his other hand slipped down to her thigh, his half-hard manhood pressing against her, ‘am I going to get any more complaints from you woman?’

‘Robert I’m tired.’ She replied curtly, needing to get away from his suffocating presence. ‘I’m going to bed.’ She tried to yank her arm free of his grip, but he held fast, gripping her as easily as if she were some light inanimate object, not a fully grown human.

‘Let me go.’ She enforced, chastising herself for the weakness of her voice, worn down with anger and exhaustion.

‘I don’t care what you want.’ He said, sliding his hand underneath the hem of her nightdress, ‘But I do know what I want. And I get what I want.’

Cersei closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, drained and overpowered, as Robert forcefully turned her round, trapping her against the dresser, the hard edges of the wood jutting painfully against her hips.

She tasted the bile rising in her throat as he unzipped his trousers and roughly thrust himself inside her with a grunt, not able to contain the small cry of pain that escaped her as she felt her flesh tear and the blood run down her thighs.

_A lion cannot be broken._

Putting a hand to the back of her neck, Robert forced her upper body down onto the dresser, gripping her hip with the other as he groaned with pleasure and exertion.

‘Nothing to say?’ Robert jeered as he ploughed into her mercilessly, her nails biting into the table top, gripping on to something that she could not see. ‘That’s different for you, Lannister.’

Cersei forced her mind to wander as she lay there helpless, forced herself to think about anything to take her away from the hell she was in. She thought about Casterly Rock, about her mother playing the piano, about the grounds that she and Jaime would explore for days on end. She thought about her beautiful golden twin, and their beautiful golden children, and the beautiful golden days that they should have been able to spend together; hell, even Tyrion seemed somewhat pleasant a thought.

Somewhere, she did not know where, a door slammed shut.

And then it was over.

Robert spilled inside her with a grunt, before pulling out and releasing her of his weight and his stench.

She did not know how long it had been, how long she had been lost in her thoughts, her memories, how long he had been using her. It did not matter. It was over. And soon, much more would be ending too.

‘Now get out of my sight.’ Robert said, wiping the blood and seed off his cock and onto the floor.

Without a sound Cersei pushed herself up from the dresser and adjusted her clothing, fighting for her features to remain stoic and her legs to remain strong so as not to betray the stabbing pain that throbbed between her thighs, refusing to give him the satisfaction that he sought.

‘There was a time when I thought that you didn’t enjoy cruelty.’ She said pausing at the door, her voice quiet, yet hard and cold as steel. ‘Now you’re too drunk to know the difference.’

*****

As soon as she had shut the door behind her, Cersei made her way hurriedly to the spare bedroom, shutting the door behind her before locking herself in the adjoining bathroom. With tears pricking her eyes she stripped herself of her clothes and turned on the shower, letting the hot jet of water pummel her skin with its droplets. When that was not enough, when she could still feel him, smell him, she started to chafe at her skin, urgently erasing the blood and gunk from her thighs, rubbing and scraping at her flesh with ever increasing ferocity and desperation until it burned raw, and she sunk down onto the shower floor with her head against her knees, wanting to scream as her skin burned and the water gradually turned colder.

When it was finally too cold to bear, she got up and found a towel to dry herself off, dressing herself in a pair of silken pyjama shorts and one of Jaime’s old t-shirts that she’d had hidden at the house for years ever since he had left it there by accident. Even after all that time, it still smelled like her twin.

Going back into the bathroom, she downed a vial of moon tea from the collection that Qyburn had prepared for her, before brushing her teeth to get rid of the bitter taste. He was the only person she trusted enough to make it and supply it for her; the substance was not one readily found on the open market, and there were rumours, terrible rumours, of what could happen if it were even slightly wrong.

When she finally lay down on the bed, she found that sleep would not take her despite the fatigue that wore her down to her bones. She tossed and turned, restless, until she could take it no more, and sat up with a bolt of pain between her legs, grabbing the pillow behind her and beating it down onto the bed around her in a maddened frenzy.

She chastised herself for feeling like this. Wanted to scream in frustration, in anger. For feeling weak, in pain. She _fucking_ hated it, the irregularity of emotion, yet she felt it all the same. She told herself to get a grip, vowed that it would never happen again, but at the same time, she couldn’t bring herself to truly care. She told herself it was the tiredness, the physical pain, that tomorrow she would be back to normal, that tomorrow she’d find the solution and the lions would roam free.

_A Lannister always pays his debts._

But she’d been telling herself that for the last five weeks, and nothing had changed.

After what felt like hours she stopped, breathing hard, as she noticed a small item fall out of the pillowcase and onto the duvet. Clutching it in her fist she collapsed utterly spent back among the sheets, curling herself into a ball.

Opening her hand she saw that the item was a very small piece of paper, all scrunched up and creased due to the beating it had received. She unravelled the folds to an untidy scrawl of a handwriting that read in tiny letters: _I love you. Always remember that._

Cersei choked on a silent sob as she read the words of the messy script that she recognised so well, and picked up her phone from the bedside table, feeling her heart constrict as the rings sounded quietly into the darkness.

She didn’t know what she would say to him. In truth, she didn’t even know why she was calling him at all. She supposed that she just needed him, his voice; her Jaime.

‘Hey Cers.’ Jaime answered after only two rings, and Cersei urged herself not to let the tears fall at the sound of his voice.

But it was Jaime, it wouldn’t matter what she did. There were no conditions. She was safe with him.

‘Hey, are you alright?’ He asked softly when she gave no reply.

‘He doesn’t even know how old they are, Jaime.’ She said quietly after a long pause, at a loss for words as the first of the tears fell silently down her cheeks. ‘He doesn’t even know how old they are.’

A silence passed on the other end of the line as Cersei heard a door shut quietly in Jaime’s background, and for a moment she thought that he was trying to control an outburst of rage at the insinuation that something that had happened, at the thoughts of what Robert had done, before he spoke in a voice tender and calm, though Cersei could sense that he felt not as he spoke.

‘Well,’ he said after a long pause, ‘Tommen is 4. He’s a sweet, sensitive little boy, who looks up to his sister more than anyone, is obsessed with cats, and has been asking for one ever since he was able to talk. Myrcella, 6, a sweet, thoughtful, curious, intelligent little girl, as beautiful as her mother, and who could give anyone a good run for their money.’ Cersei covered her mouth with her free hand as she heard her brother’s words, the tears now running freely down her face as she did her best not to sob like a wretch.

_Why did Jaime have to be so good? Why did he have to care when no one else did?_

She couldn’t decide whether she wanted him to stop talking and just act like everyone else, lecherous and hostile and deceitful, or whether she wanted him to talk forever and never to stop, to curl up in his arms and never leave. She didn’t know whether it would be easier to just be completely alone, knowing that there was no other option, nowhere to turn, rather than this pain of having someone, someone who cared whether she lived or died, someone who wanted her, cherished her, loved her not because they needed her, to use her as a chess piece, but simply because they wanted to, because it was real, but to know that that person she could never truly have.

Blood is thicker than water, and what they had was thicker even than blood. But like blood, like water, too much loss can be detrimental.

Quickly it seemed as though all the control was slipping from her grasp.

‘Joffrey’s 10.’ There was a pause as Jaime considered his words. ‘He can be very difficult, quite shitty even, and sometimes I even think that he may have gone out of control for good. But then I see some things he does, hear some things he says, and I cannot believe that is the case. I see then that he is not some monster as Robert is yet, he is not a 30 something fat whoring drunkard who hurts and insults those he is supposed to protect. He is just a child, and you know more than anyone that it’s only an act because he doesn’t want to look weak, because he craves attention and validation from Robert which he will never get, and he is hurt because he is brushed aside. And even though those few moments may be small, sparse even, they are there, and who’s to say that they couldn’t become more common, under different circumstances.’

‘Fuck Robert.’ Jaime continued, his voice firmer, more fiery, but not accusing. ‘Fuck him. You never gave one shit about him before. You know that he isn’t even aware that he’s got alleged children, and you never cared that he has nothing to do with them – you don’t want him near them! So fuck what he says, fuck what he does. Soon he’ll be nothing and people will give even fewer fucks about him than they do now.’

‘You’re right, I don’t care about him…’ Cersei said, trying to steady her voice as much as possible between shaky breaths, ‘… I…I think I just….they deserve so much better than that, Jaime.’

‘I know,’ he said quietly, tenderly, ‘I know. And they will. Before too long, Robert will never be able to set his unworthy eyes on them again. And they’ll be fine, they’ll move on. They’re Lannisters, they’re not weak. It’d take more than that to truly break them.’

‘Cers,’ Jaime said tentatively after a while, as Cersei allowed herself to find some comfort in her brother’s words. ‘I don’t know if you know but… Joff’s here with me. He’s okay, don’t worry, but he is here with me.’

‘What?’ she said, panic rising in her chest, ‘What do you mean he’s with you? When? Why?’

Cersei knew that Jaime would never lie about their children, not to her, and especially not when it mattered, so she told herself to believe Jaime, to believe that Joffrey was fine, knowing that he was safe with his real father.

‘About two hours ago.’ He replied calmly, though not without concern. ‘He’s alright now, he’s asleep, but he was… scared, Cers. Unnerved. Angry too, but I’ve never seen him like that before. He wouldn’t tell me what happened, but some of the things he was saying, a jumbled, incoherent mess, but all the same...’ Jaime trailed off, unsure of where to go.

 _The door._ She thought suddenly in the silence that passed. She had thought she had heard a door slam, but she hadn’t been sure at the time, didn’t even cross her mind that it could have been… that her baby boy could have seen…

‘Cersei, what did he do to you?’ He finally asked softly, his voice breaking with affliction to match his twin’s pain. ‘What did Joffrey see Robert do to you?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ She answered quietly, a fresh wave of salty tears streaming down her cheeks as her mind became fraught with agonising and disquieting images of what her precious boy had seen, what he would be thinking, and with guilt at not having been there for him, to comfort and reassure him.

‘Of course it matters.’ Jaime said sadly, earnestly, staunchly. ‘It matters to me. You matter to me. I love you. And I will not lose you to him. For weeks, Cersei, for months, for years, I have sat by at your will while he treats you like this. Cers, tell me that there is an end to this, or so gods help me I will not sit by any longer while he abuses you. He gets worse every year. I love you too much to see you suffer. To see our children suffer. I don’t care about my reputation, I don’t care what father says, you are more important to me than anything, and I would do anything for you, so of course it matters when the one thing I do care about is being hurt, and beaten, and abused.’

‘I love you.’ He continued, his voice dropping down to barely more than an exhausted whisper. ‘I love you and I cannot live without you. I will never be whole if you are no longer here. Please, Cersei, don’t let him make us incomplete.’

‘I love you, Jaime.’ She said after a long pause, the silent tears running down her cheeks as she mirrored his whisper. ‘I love you. And there is an end. I promise.’

_But I don't know when._

Cersei let the phone fall from her grip as she ended the call, uncaring as it landed with a thud onto the carpet.

She barely had time to register what had just happened before she sensed, rather than saw, the little figure standing in the doorframe, and turned around with a start, hastily wiping away her tears as she saw Myrcella standing by the door, clutching her stuffed lion to her chest.

‘Come here darling.’ She said softly, reaching her arms out to her daughter as Myrcella shut the door behind her and padded quietly over to the bed, climbing between the sheets and curling herself up next to her mother.

Cersei wrapped her arms around Myrcella, kissing her head and burying her face against her silky golden hair.

She smelt of soap and fresh linen, mint and innocence.

‘Can’t sleep?’ She asked quietly, her brow creasing with unease as her little girl shook her head and without saying anything burrowed herself even closer against Cersei, her small fingers curling into her shirt.

‘Hey, what’s the matter sweetheart?’ Cersei said softly, stroking through her hair as she felt the teardrops slowly seep through and dampen the material of Jaime’s shirt against her skin.

Receiving no answer but a deluge of heartfelt sobs, she added tenderly, ‘Look at me, Cella. Talk to me.’

After what felt like an age, Cersei heard Myrcella mumble something incoherent against her, and strained to decipher her words until finally she made out ‘…and I don’t like it when you’re sad…’

‘Oh my sweet little girl, I’m fine.’ She tried to comfort her, her heart breaking at the distress evident in her six year old, far too young for such pain. ‘You mustn’t worry about me, that’s not your job. It’s my job to worry about you. You are so precious to me, and I don’t want you to be worrying about things like that.’

‘But you _are_ sad!’ Myrcella cried out distraught between choked sobs, at last looking up at her mother, her eyes shining bright. ‘You’re sad and you’re hurt and you won’t ever say anything but I know and, and, I see all the hurt marks on you that you try to cover and you haven’t been happy for ages and it’s because of what father does to you and he won’t ever stop and I’m scared of him and Tommy’s scared of him and, and, I want to see Uncle Jaime and I want him to come and live with us and I want father to go away because everything is always better when Uncle Jaime is here because he isn’t mean and he doesn’t scare me and he doesn’t hurt you and he loves you and you love him don’t you? She finished, bursting into a fresh set of tears.

‘Of course I love him, he’s my brother.’ She said, wiping away her tears with her thumbs. ‘And I promise we can see him soon, okay?’

Cersei hesitated, unsure of how to address the rest of Myrcella’s concerns. Luckily, Myrcella got there first, shaking her head.

‘But you don’t just love Uncle Jaime as a brother do you?’ she questioned, the flood of tears continuing, although she had calmed down somewhat. ‘He loves you, I know he does, he loves you like father should love you, but he doesn’t. You make Uncle Jaime happy, and he makes you happy, I can see it. And you can’t say it because it would make father angry, and because everyone would be mad at you, but you love him, I know you do. I’ve seen it, when you think no one is watching. You look at each other a lot. And..’ she paused, chewing her lip, ‘…and I saw it that time when you jumped us with the piano and Uncle Jaime kissed you and you kissed him back… Are you mad at me?’

‘Oh darling I could never be angry with you. You could never do anything wrong. I will always love you, whatever you do.’

A long pause followed as Cersei contemplated how she would answer her daughter. She could see now that she would not believe nor accept any other answer but the truth, that was plain enough, but she had no idea how much of the truth she should tell her.

‘Myrcella, sweetheart, can you keep a secret?’ Cersei said quietly, tentatively, after a while, her hands still stroking through her daughter’s hair as she looked up at her, waiting for an answer.

She made her decision.

‘Can you promise me that you won’t tell anyone else? Not even Tommen or Joffrey?’ she asked as Myrcella nodded earnestly, the tears ceasing, replaced by curiosity and hopefulness.

‘You know your friend, Sansa?’ Cersei started after a beat, searching for a way to tell her. ‘You know her brother, Jon? Well, you know how Sansa’s mother, Catelyn, isn’t Jon’s real mother, but Sansa’s father is his father, and that no one knows who his real mother is? Well… I suppose… I guess what I’m trying to say is that… your father, Robert… he’s not your real father. Uncle Jaime is your father. You and Joffrey and Tommen. You’re his children, even though everyone thinks Robert is your father and he lives with us, not Uncle Jaime.’

Cersei looked at her daughter curiously as a smile spread over her little features, her eyes dancing now not with tears but with an unadulterated joy that took Cersei by surprise.

But her smile faltered almost as quickly as it had come, and her brows knitted together in confusion.

‘But…why would they want you to live with someone who hurts you rather than someone who loves you?’ She asked, tilting her head to one side.

‘It’s not as simple as that sweetheart.’

‘Because you’re brother and sister?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s against the law. And if people knew, they’d try to take you away from me.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s…it’s just the way it is.’

 _But it shouldn’t be_ she thought bitterly.

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know, darling.’ She said softly.

Myrcella considered for a moment.

‘Why can’t we just go someplace else? Where it’s allowed?’

‘Is not as easy as that, my love.’

‘Why?’

Cersei looked at her daughter for a long moment, unhinged by her simple, childish perception, and she found herself unable to answer her question. A question that should have been so simple to answer.

_Why can’t we just go somewhere else? Why is it so difficult for us?_

‘Because…’ she said slowly, ‘people are everywhere, in all parts of the world… and most people don’t like brothers and sisters to love each other, even if it’s real, and it’s those same people who make the laws.’

‘Then I don’t like most people.’ Myrcella declared, settling herself back against her mother. ‘People are mean and they don’t understand.’

‘No, they don’t understand.’ Cersei whispered back.

‘I love you, mummy.’ She said quietly, yawning.

‘I love you too, Myrcella. More than anything. Never forget that.’ She placed a long kiss to the top of her head.

A few long moments passed, and Cersei thought that her daughter had fallen asleep, before a tired voice called out into the darkness, ‘So I was right? About you and Uncle Jaime?’

‘Yes, sweetheart,’ Cersei laughed softly as she felt Myrcella smile against her, a smile creeping onto her own features as well, ‘you were right.’

*****

The next morning Myrcella had decided that she did indeed want to eat. Everything.

Cersei watched her daughter as she ate her way through fruits and toast and croissants, babbling happily about school and music and her friends, more content than she had seen her for a long time.

It wasn’t long before Tommen joined them, and feeding off the atmosphere he too joined in with Myrcella’s merriment, seemingly back to his normal, happy self.

And Cersei was happy. Seeing her children happy made her happy. She knew that Joffrey was safe; he would come back home once he had had breakfast with Jaime. She felt lighter than she had felt for a while.

At least, she did for forty five blissful minutes.

Then the storm came, a tumultuous uproar that could not be fought, nor reasoned with, nor made to see sense.

And it came in the form of a diabolical and savage boar, who even at eight in the morning ran wild with blood of liquor.

Saying nothing, Robert stormed into the kitchen, eyes ablaze – with anger or with spirits it was difficult to differentiate – and made his way straight towards his wife. Ignoring the desperate pleas of his young children, and seizing a sharp kitchen knife in his grasp he dragged Cersei from her chair and slammed her hard against the cupboards, holding the blade to her throat, uncaring as it bit into the surface of her skin as he bellowed slurred accusations and threats in equal measure.

To pull at his hands was futile; to try to speak only brought more pain. All too aware of the raw biting sting of the steel and the distressing cries of the children, Cersei’s mind raced to find a solution, but nothing was forthcoming.

‘Please stop it, please stop, please!’ Myrcella repeated, choking on her anguished sobs as she begged Robert to leave Cersei alone, little Tommen’s hand clutched in her own.

But Robert did not heed her pleas, nor their tears; for drink had blinded him to pity.

And then she screamed.

Myrcella screamed at the top of her lungs, a scream so harrowing, so full of pain and fear, so disturbing in a child of her age that even Robert was taken aback, and shaken momentarily out of his drunken trance he moved away from Cersei, discarding the knife onto the table and remaining rooted to the spot until she ceased to scream, and only tears were left.

Holding a hand to her neck, Cersei made her way towards her children, but before she could go more than two steps, one of the French doors leading out into the garden was thrown open, and Joffrey appeared, halting on the scene before him.

For a moment, in a second that seemed to last a lifetime, time seemed to stand still as everyone glanced around at each other, waiting, waiting, waiting, for the next move.

‘Where in fuck’s name have you been?’ Robert shouted threateningly at Joffrey as the boy flinched, breaking the tense silence that had fallen.

Joffrey said nothing as he looked up at Robert, fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt as the monstrosity of a man started to make his way on the warpath towards a child that had never before looked so small.

‘Stop being mean.’ Myrcella commanded in her small voice, bravely moving to stand in Robert’s way, and looked up at him defiant.

Glowering down at the little girl before him, Robert wasted no time in responding, but rather struck out a large fist and pushed Myrcella forcefully to one side, uncaring as she stumbled backwards and fell, hitting her head against a chair.

With a shout, Cersei ran towards her daughter as Robert continued towards Joffrey, and taking her little frame into her arms, she held her tight and desperately checked her over for any major damage, kissing her head as she sobbed in her embrace.

Where time had slowed only moments ago, it now felt as though everything was going too quickly as Cersei was torn apart between her attentions towards her wounded daughter, her distraught young son, and her eldest boy now in more danger than any of them, tormented in her inability to help all three at the same time.

Cersei hastily kissed Myrcella and Tommen’s heads at the same time as the first blow landed heavily across Joffrey’s face.

Disentangling herself from her daughter, she stood up, and in an enraged fury seized the discarded knife from the table and stood between Robert and Joffrey just as Robert raised his fist again, her body protecting her son’s and her face receiving the blow instead.

But before Robert could do anything more, Cersei drew the knife and put the point to his chest, emerald eyes alight as wildfire as she looked him at him straight.

He had done the one thing that he had not done before, the one thing that Cersei would not take, would not endure, and would never allow. The stag had threatened the lioness’ cubs, and in doing so, had made himself the prey, sealed his own fate.

‘You will not touch my children.’ She menaced, each word emphasised slowly with anger and loathing. ‘You will never raise a finger to them again if you want to live out your worthless days. I swear it. Touch them and you die.’

And he must have seen something in her eyes, something that took him aback and warned him that she was not making an idle threat, that he took a step back and stormed off upstairs with a grunt, slamming a door shut behind him.

Breathing hard, Cersei let the knife fall onto the table, and with a gentle stroke of Joffrey’s cheek, turned back towards Myrcella and picked her up, taking Tommen by the hand and leading the three of them into the living room.

Settling down onto a sofa, Myrcella comfortably in her lap, Tommen curled up next to his mother, his little hands grasped tightly around Ser Pounce and his blanket. But Joffrey did not sit, and instead shifted his weight from one foot to the next, chewing his lip and staring at his siblings.

‘Joff?’ Cersei called out after him as he suddenly turned and left the room, but she needn’t have worried, for he returned a few minutes later - and not alone.

Looking distinctly uncomfortable, he held out Myrcella’s stuffed lion towards her, which she gratefully accepted, a new look of attentiveness mixed with confusion towards her elder brother written over her face.

Cersei felt her heart swell at his action, and pulled him to sit next to her, placing a long kiss to his head as he leant against her shoulder, for once not pulling away or shunning her touch.

Long moments of quiet passed as the shock started to wear off, only interrupted by an occasional bout of breathless sobs accompanied by tender words of comfort.

‘I want each of you to pack a bag or two.’ Cersei said finally after a while, her words slightly muffled against Myrcella’s hair. ‘Anything you might need or want over the next few days. Don’t worry, I’ll help you, just start getting things together.’

‘Where will we go?’ Myrcella asked softly, tilting her head to look up at her mother.

‘You’ll see.’ She said, kissing her head, ‘You’ll see.’

*****

Jaime opened the door and let them in without a word.

Tommen ran to Tyrion; Myrcella to Jaime. Joffrey went to the bedroom that he had occupied the night before.

Cersei stood by the door.

She stood as her eyes locked with her twin’s.

She stood as Tyrion and Jaime offered comfort to her children, tending to their hurts and worries and reviving their spirits.

She stood as Jaime returned and cleared the crimson from her neck, before taking her into his arms and holding her there, tight in his embrace as silence prevailed.

She did not know how long they remained like that, did not know whether minutes or years had passed when she felt Jaime take her hand in his and lead her to a sofa, his thumb stroking over her hand as they searched for words though they both knew that there was nothing to say that they hadn’t said before, nothing to think that they didn’t already know the other was thinking.

So nothing was said.

The only sound was the slow _tick, tick, tick_ of the clock. Counting, waiting.

_Tick, tick, tick._

The door opened and Tyrion entered, closing it softly behind him.

A long, heavy silence fell before he spoke.

‘Cersei, this has to change –’, he started quietly.

‘I will not hear it from you.’ She said, cutting him off though her voice matched his in volume.

Another long pause.

_Tick, tick, tick._

‘Yes, you will.’ He stated, though not unkindly. ‘You have to hear it.’

She shook her head, her jaw set. ‘I will not –’

‘Cersei, look at yourself!’ he implored, raising his voice and cutting her off before she could protest. ‘He rapes you and beats you and insults you and you keep on taking it. Why? Do not tell me that it’s for the good of the family, the legacy, and we all know that you haven’t fallen blindly in love with him, so why? Why are you so stubbornly adamant to remain in this marriage? You had a get out clause – they could have put him in prison for you, but you chose to push it aside! Do you think you’re protecting them, their parentage, by staying with Robert? They’re more hurt now than they’ve ever been. You’re going to say that I have no right to tell you about your children, but you know more than anyone how upset they’ve been lately. And you – you’re exhausted! You’re too proud to admit it, in denial even, but even I don’t need Jaime to tell me that you are not yourself!

For everything that Robert has done, the Cersei Lannister I know would have killed him in his sleep ages ago. Why haven’t you done anything? How much longer is this going to go on? When will enough be enough? What more does he have to do to you, to the children, before you stop being so proud and stubborn and afeared that walking away will make you look weak. He smashed a fucking hammer to you, Cersei – only weeks after you had Tommen! Because what? Why? A _new-born baby_ was crying and you told him to be quiet? Because he was too wasted to control himself? What more will he do? At this point, it’s not strength anymore, it’s senselessness.’

‘Please, Cersei.’ Tyrion said, voice dropping softly ‘I know we have our differences you and I, but you are my sister whether you like it or not - and I know you don’t care to hear it - but I don’t want to see you hurt like this. This has gone too far. And if you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for the children. Jaime, make her see sense.’ He finished before walking out the room, as the silent tears streamed down her face.

‘Cers –’, Jaime started

‘Please don’t.’ She whispered, closing her eyes.

‘Come here.’ He said instead, pulling her closer against him and placing a kiss to her head.

As much as she was loathe to admit it, she knew that her brother was right. Jaime had been right. She saw that now. They could plan and scheme, but it would only work if time didn’t beat them too it, if Robert didn’t get there first.

Something needed to be done. And she had decided that it had to be done today.

With her head resting in the warm crook of Jaime’s neck, she let her hand wander slowly down his shirt, coming to rest next to a spot of her blood on the fabric, a deep crimson, the colour of wine.

Of wine...

Cersei sat up suddenly and reached for her phone.


	12. Today is the Day: Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Next PPP #5 is dedicated to 'Where did you go?' by carol_jones; I always wished that that scene in 3x10 had been longer, and now that little hole has been filled by this beautiful work that has done it justice! :) 
> 
> I don't know about you, but I've been waiting for this moment for quite a while; I hope you enjoy!

The parcel arrived promptly after she had called, delivered by a small child with a sweet smile and curious, dancing eyes.

Taking the vial out of the box, Cersei held it up to the light to better read the tiny inscription on the other side:

_Ingredients: Quite a few, believe me._

__

_Instructions: Best ingested in one go for optimum results._

__

_Good luck, my friend._

With a small smile, she lowered the glass and tore off the label.

‘What’s in that exactly?’ Jaime asked quietly after a while, watching her movements attentively as she reached for the lighter he kept – neither smoked, but it did come in useful for moments like these – and set the little piece of paper aflame, letting its charred remains become engulfed as she dropped it into the small metal bin.

‘Freedom.’ She said, turning to face her twin. ‘Justice. Revenge. It’s ours if we’ll only take it.’

Putting the vial of poison down carefully, Cersei made her way into the living room, stopping to gaze out of the large window that looked down over the sprawling city below. From up there, with the ground so far away and the sky close enough to touch, she could almost believe that no one else existed, that it was just her and Jaime and their children that lived in the world, their possibilities as wide and free as the sky above them, and their troubles as distant and finite as the ground below.

Jaime followed her steps, coming to stand behind her, and wrapping his arms gently around her waist, he buried his face against her hair.

‘We do it tonight Jaime.’ She said finally after a long silence, voice quiet, but determined. ‘It has to be tonight. It has to end now and we have to end it. It might be the best opportunity we’ll ever have. We can do it in plain sight and no one will know. We’d have a perfect alibi – gods he’d practically be doing it to himself! Yes, it’s risky. But it’s far less risky than anything else we’ve thought of, and it’s far less dangerous than staying as we are.’ She shook her head gently. ‘I can’t bear to see them hurt anymore. I can’t do that to them. Can’t just keep pretending that it’ll go away, because sooner or later he’ll hurt them, more than he already does. I see that now; you were right. It will only get worse. He drinks more every day, and the more he drinks the worse he gets. Fuck the consequences! Nothing’s worse than seeing them hurt. If we stick to our plan, we’ll win.’

Cersei hesitated, biting her lip.

‘We’ll be fine.’ Jaime reassured before she could express any doubt, turning Cersei around gently to face him, and enclosed her in a tight embrace.

‘They’ll be fine.’ He said, fingers trailing through the golden strands of her hair. ‘When Robert is gone no one will be defending his drunken corpse, no one will be looking for vengeance – no one gives that many shits about him. He’s a boar, and an ignorant one at that. He’s meant to be hunted, and we’re meant to be the hunters. We settle the scores. We choose our prey. You said it yourself, what chance has a boar when he is trapped between two lions? He’ll never even know what’s happening until it is too late. Until we’ve won, and he has paid in blood for everything that he has done. For every mark, for every word, for every single second he will pay, and only then, when he has paid, will we have paid our debt too.’

‘And then the game begins.’ She said, looking up to meet his gaze. ‘With the wolves and the vultures and gods know who else.’

‘Then the game begins.’ He echoed back in a whisper, emerald eyes locked onto hers. ‘And to hell with those who don’t like how we play.’

Cersei felt a shiver run down her spine as Jaime leant down to kiss her.

It was the merest brush of their lips, yet it was enough to send a bolt of electricity coursing through their blood, halting time and silencing all sound but their breath with a tantalising promise of what could be - if they would only give in to it.

Hearing sudden footsteps enter the room the twins jolted apart reflexively, the same intoxicating and exhilarating energy that fuelled their bond serving too as the source of their severance.

‘My head hurts.’ Myrcella sobbed, her little hand clutched against her golden crown of hair.

Cersei turned round to face her daughter, kneeling down to stroke her cheek gently and brush away her tears, placing a tender kiss to her head.

‘I know, my darling.’ She soothed as she pulled her into a tight hug. ‘It will get better though, I promise. Kiss it better?’ she offered, repeatedly kissing the small bruise on the side of her head until it elicited a little giggle from Myrcella even through her tears. ‘Let me get you some ice for it, mmh?’

Myrcella nodded as Cersei stood up and made her way towards the kitchen counters. Opening the freezer in search of peas, she watched with a smile as Jaime picked their daughter up and carried her to a sofa, and how Myrcella nestled herself against him, settling her head into the crook of his neck, her tears subsiding as she giggled softly at something he said.

Grabbing a cloth, Cersei returned to the living room and handed the makeshift icepack to Jaime who held it carefully against their daughter’s head. Although she was fairly certain that Myrcella’s injury wasn’t serious, she made a mental note to get Qyburn to take a look at it if it didn’t improve quickly - after all, she didn’t trust just any old doctor to see to her children.

‘Love you mummy.’ Myrcella murmured after a while, turning her head lazily to look up at her mother.

‘I love you too sweetheart.’ She replied, gently stroking her daughter’s cheek.

Leaning up to half-whisper into Jaime’s ear, with a half-hearted attempt at secrecy of one whose true purpose is to be heard, Myrcella added after a beat, ‘Love you too daddy.’, before settling back against his side.

Cersei watched Jaime with a mixture of amusement and love as he gazed down at their little girl, stunned and speechless and unable to believe what had just happened. With an incredulous exhalation of breath her twin turned his head to meet her eyes, a thousand questions and answers being given and received simultaneously between them. But of all the hundreds of hows and whys and whens and whats, there was only one question that truly needed to be asked.

Though she did it not through sound and not through words, no further sureties were needed as Cersei gave him her answer, the only answer that truly mattered, and in doing so, she gave to him the permission of a mother, the confirmation of a sister, and the assurance, the vow, the trust, of a lover to truly share with her what she held most dear.

And she knew just how much her answer meant to Jaime.

Turning back to his daughter, _their_ daughter, Jaime placed a long, fierce kiss atop her mass of golden curls before answering, ‘I love you too.’, his heart swelling as he received the brightest, most adoring smile from the little girl whom he could call his own, even if only among the three of them.

But before anyone was able to respond with anything else, the pitter patter of feet drew their attention as Tommen, Tyrion, and Joffrey trailed in to join them. As Joffrey slumped onto a chair, and Tommen jumped up onto the sofa to sit next to his mother, Tyrion cast a suspicious glance between Cersei, Myrcella, and Jaime and back again, but ultimately decided that it was best not to say anything – at least not right at that moment.

‘I’m hungry.’ Joffrey complained after a long moment of silence as his stomach growled loudly. ‘I want lunch.’

‘Yeah me too.’ Tommen supplied sweetly, looking up at Cersei.

‘Me three.’ Myrcella chorused, sitting up animatedly from her position to look at her mother, her bubbly vivacity returned to her from where of late it had begun to be so disturbingly drained. 

‘Yeah me as well.’ Jaime added in his best childish voice, trying with difficulty to maintain an earnest expression as the little ones giggled, his twin rolled her eyes, and Tyrion nearly choked on a scoff.

‘Well I guess that’s sorted then.’ Cersei said happily as she ruffled Tommen’s hair, pleased that her children were concerning themselves with matters that children were supposed to be thinking of, not those that went way beyond what was fair for their years. ‘I suppose we’ll just have to have lunch now. So, who’s cooking?’ she said, looking between her brothers, who looked at each other expectantly in turn.

But silence did not linger, and Cersei raised an eyebrow as she watched her brothers converse in silent conversation, littered with exaggerated head jerks, theatrical hand gestures, and a very, very wide range of facial expressions, as her youngest children sported smiles and giggles that grew ever greater as their uncles’ dramatics increased.

It was only when Tommen and Myrcella were clutching their sides in hysterics that Tyrion finally made an announcement.

‘Jaime and I have come to the conclusion that cooking is not the way forward today. We should order a takeaway instead.’ 

‘No. Absolutely not.’ Cersei said shaking her head incredulously at her younger brothers as the children cheered at Tyrion’s suggestion. ‘Do you know how badly they eat when you two are around? Those things are diabetes in a bowl.’

‘Please mummy, we don’t have it often.’ Myrcella said, resting her head against her mother’s shoulder.

‘She’s right.’ Tyrion argued. ‘Think about it big sister: you can’t be bothered to cook, I can’t be bothered to cook, and neither can Jaime. It’s the easiest solution – and right now, I think we all need the easy solution. And anyway, the children can just run it off tomorrow – they’ll be fine.’

‘Yeah we’ll be fine.’ Tommen added, echoing his uncle.

'Joff?’ Cersei asked, looking at her eldest boy.

‘Yeah whatever.’ Joffrey shrugged, ‘I’m still hungry.’

‘What do you think, _uncle_?’ Myrcella said turning to face Jaime, a cheeky grin on her features.

‘Well, I think it’s a great idea.’ Jaime said, chuckling at the little girl’s words before throwing an amused look at Cersei.

‘Yeah me too.’ Myrcella championed.

‘Oh you do, do you?’ Cersei replied looking between her brother and their daughter as they both nodded enthusiastically. ‘Well I suppose we’ll have to see whether-’

She was cut off suddenly as Jaime lunged at her, Tommen and Myrcella wiggling out of the way and squealing as he began to tickle her while she squirmed and twisted under his fingers, half laughing, half gasping for breath.

The first thing she noticed when Jaime stilled his fingers was the heat of his body above hers. Panting, she looked up to meet his gaze to find his emerald eyes locked on hers, drawing her in to their deepest depths. She watched him swallow as her eyes trailed over his lips and down over the strong muscles of his biceps, defined from where he was supporting his weight above her, and felt her heart beat faster in her chest as his eyes wandered desirously over her features, consumed as though unable to see anything else but what was right in front of them. The world could have burned and they would not have noticed.

A sharp, urgent cough from Tyrion brought them back to reality.

‘Fine.’ She conceded finally, voice steady though she could feel her pulse accelerating through her body, all too aware of Jaime’s proximity, the heat radiating from his flesh, his scent filling her senses, intoxicating. Cersei shifted away from him, and feeling the same sentiments Jaime mirrored her actions, reclining back against the sofa as Myrcella looked between her parents; for without the space between them, the temptation was far too enticing a desire. ‘Fine. Takeaway it is then.’ She said as the little ones squealed. ‘But no sweets afterwards. And order something with vegetables!’ she called after her children as they ran off to find the menu with Tyrion.

‘Do you know how bad those takeaways can be for you?’ Cersei said when she and Jaime were alone once again, ‘They may taste great, but they’re full of fat and sugar and salt, and gods know what else –’

‘Oh come on,’ Jaime said amused, shushing her with a gentle finger to her lips, ‘it’s a one off treat. And,’ he added, lowering his voice to whisper into her ear, ‘it’s nowhere near as bad as some of the things that I’d like to do to you when we’re alone.’

‘Oh really?’ She asked, as one of her hands fell to his chest.

‘Yes, really.’ He replied, one hand snaking to the small of her back.

‘What kind of things?’ she whispered, biting her lip.

‘I guess I’ll just have to show you tonight.’ He said lowly, breath hot against her ear as he inched yet closer.

Cersei laughed softly. ‘That’s a lovely thought, sweet brother, but you may have to wait – we are expected to attend that formal party on the riverboat tonight, remember? Or how would you prefer to explain our absence to father? And have you forgotten already what grand event the evening shall end with?’

‘I could never forget.’ He said, placing slow, light kisses along her jawline. ‘Not when we’ve waited for this opportunity for so long.’

‘Jaime we have to be more careful.’ She warned gently, placing a light hand against his cheek to still his actions. ‘We can’t get clumsy, especially not when we’re this close to success.’

Jaime shot a cautionary glance over his shoulder; they were still alone. ‘Maybe I’ll just have to show you what I mean later than I had originally planned.’ He teased, cocksure grin spreading across his features. ‘Besides, we’ll have much to celebrate – and I can think of a number of suitable things that we can do.’

Cersei huffed a laugh. ‘You know I’m starting to think I know where Myrcella gets it from. Don’t think I didn’t notice the way she called you uncle.’

Her twin laughed softly and shook his head gently. ‘I still can’t believe she knew – or guessed, at least. Were we really that obvious?’

‘I suppose we weren’t too subtle at times. Especially not you with your I-want-to-kiss-you-every-minute attitude.’ She teased.

‘But I do!’ he countered matter-of-factly as Cersei smiled before continuing.

‘But Myrcella’s not like other people. How can she be? She’s a Lannister, and she’s _ours_. And there’s some things that you just… know. It’s inexplicable, but it just _is_. You and I know more than anyone what that’s like.’

‘I know.’ He affirmed softly, reaching out to stroke her cheek. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’ She replied, taking his hand off her face and entwining it in her own.

‘Now I really do want to kiss you.’ Jaime said as she met his gaze.

She paused for a moment to study his face before saying, ‘I think I can give you that one.’

‘Good.’ He breathed as he leant down to capture her lips in a quick but fierce kiss.

‘Come on.’ She said, tugging his hand after they broke apart. ‘Let’s go see what nasty place they’ve decided to order from.’

*****

A Chinese takeaway, some baking (disguised as a food fight), two chaotic board games, and over three hours later the group were back in Jaime’s living area, settled comfortably among the sofas and chairs. Amidst the talking, drinking, and joking, Tyrion had somehow managed to convince Joffrey to play cards with him, and Myrcella and Tommen were curled up with their cuddly toys watching the Sound of Music.

The sudden buzz of a text notification sounded, and Jaime watched his sister as she idly pulled out her phone and glanced at the lit up screen.

But when she did not immediately dismiss or reply to the text, Jaime too glanced at the words that had caused Cersei to clench her fingers in anger around the case, her knuckles turning white from the pressure, and to glare at the phone as though she could kill the sender by her look.

_You better not be late tonight woman,_ it warned, _and you better look fuckable and do your fucking job when you’re on display or I swear that I will not make it easy for you._

_How fucking dare he._ He thought vehemently. _How fucking dare he._

Trying not to let the anger that was boiling in his blood show, Jaime gently prised the phone from her grasp, turned it off completely, and shoved it with disgust to one side before turning back to his sister. Cersei had her eyes fixed intently on the television – though he knew she was not even seeing what was happening – and her jaw set as she tried to suppress the fury that burned too within her.

Readjusting the large throw that covered their legs, Jaime slipped a hand beneath the soft material and reached for Cersei’s tensed hand, encasing it with his own. He stroked his thumb over her fingers until he felt her relax a little, before lacing his fingers with hers, feeling her grip tight onto him.

‘Not much longer now.’ He leant to whisper into her ear; she said nothing, but squeezed his hand in response – and that was enough reassurance for him that he had not lost her yet.

*****

When Cersei emerged from Jaime’s bedroom at 7 o’clock on the dot, Myrcella thought that she was dreaming.

For surely no real, living person could look that beautiful.

Of course, she always thought that her mother looked beautiful, and she had seen her get dressed up like this before, but tonight seemed different although she had no idea why.

All she could see was that tonight her mother seemed like an immortal goddess from the myths of old. From tales of nymphs and enchantresses, to queens and heavenly mortals, Myrcella thought that she was even more beautiful than Aphrodite or Circe, Queen Gorgo of Sparta or Psyche, Persephone or Helen of Troy from the countless stories that Uncle Tyrion would tell her.

And from her father’s reaction, Myrcella could tell that he thought the same.

She looked up at her father from where she stood next to him, looking between her parents as his eyes drank in the sight of her mother, speechless, and jaw agape in wonder.

How he could ever have thought that she wouldn’t have noticed how much he loved her mother, she did not know. It was so _obvious._

Noticing suddenly, however, that she was not the only one looking between her father and mother, Myrcella made a quick decision.

She stamped on Jaime’s foot.

Jolted out of his trance with a small ‘ouch’, she smiled up at her father as he looked down at her in confusion, before putting two and two together and composing himself once again.

She admittedly did feel a little bad for hurting him - but it had worked hadn’t it?

Her father swallowed before speaking. ‘You look… beautiful.’ He said quietly as Myrcella raised an eyebrow.

Her mother offered a small smile that lit up her face. ‘Ditto.’ She replied softly.

‘Okay,’ Tyrion remarked, interrupting the moment, ‘you two better get going before you’re late, and because we have plans here, don’t we?’ He said, as Tommen nodded eagerly.

‘Tyrion are you sure you don’t want to come?’ her father asked, as her mother kissed each of their heads goodbye before shrugging on a coat.

‘To a _really fun_ party with the likes of Ned Stark, Stannis Baratheon, Littlefinger, and father? Even the alcohol couldn’t save that one. No, my talents will be wasted there, and you know how much father would despise my presence. I’d rather be here, with Lannisters who appreciate my efforts and laugh at my jokes.’ He concluded.

‘Well, don’t have too much fun.’ Her mother warned, though not unkindly. ‘They do need to sleep.’

‘Don’t you worry about us, big sister. I am the best babysitter there is.’ Uncle Tyrion affirmed as Cersei rolled her eyes.

From there the group parted ways, and Myrcella started to follow Tyrion, Tommen, and Joffrey – the latter grumbling that he was not indeed a baby – when she had another idea.

She knew she shouldn’t, but she just wanted to see, just in case, just wanted some extra assurance that what her mother had told her and what her father had confirmed was truly real, and not just some lovely dream.

Myrcella hung back until everyone had left the room before silently retracing her steps and following her parents out, peeking her head through the gap of the ajar door that looked out into the hallway by the elevator.

The little girl felt a knowing smile spread across her face when she saw her parents.

They were kissing; her mother had her back to a wall, her hands tangled in her father’s hair as his hands held her waist beneath her coat which was falling off her shoulders.

What they were actually doing didn’t bother her – in fact, she found that part a little yucky – but the other thing that she noticed was that they were both smiling. Both seemed happy. And that made her happy too.

She had been right all along, and now they were unconsciously proving to her what she had always guessed, had hoped, but had never been certain of. They loved each other, she was sure of it, and Myrcella decided that she much preferred what her parents shared to what her not-real father had done, no matter how wrong people said it was. Her not-real father had made her hit her head and hurt her mother; her real father had given her a hug and made her laugh, and would never, ever hurt her mother.

Yes, it seemed right to her. Because how could love, and happiness, and safety, ever be wrong?

Smiling happily to herself, Myrcella went back inside to find Uncle Tyrion and her brothers.

*****

‘Jaime.’ Cersei said between kisses, ‘You’ll make us late.’

‘Fuck late.’ He growled, leaning down to attack her neck as she failed to suppress a light moan.

She couldn’t deny that it felt good to have his lips on her, his hands on her, that she wanted him more than anything; but late would get them on a radar, and right now, they needed to be as inconspicuous as possible.

‘Jaime.’ She repeated, more sternly, as one of his hands slid up her body to her breast, ‘We can’t afford to be late. Or do you not want to get rid of my husband after all?’ He stopped his actions and looked at her at that.

‘Fine.’ He said, dropping his hand back to her waist. ‘But when we get back I can’t promise not to attack you again.’

‘Good.’ She replied with a smile, linking his hands with hers, ‘Because I won’t want you to hold back.’

Jaime chuckled softly. ‘I’m glad we could come to an agreement.’

‘Always.’ She said with a gentle laugh.

‘You’re so beautiful.’ He said leaning in to kiss her again. ‘Need to make sure you’re real.’

Cersei put a finger to his lips to stop him. ‘That’s the second time you’ve told me that in the space of ten minutes.’ She stated.

‘But it’s true!’ He protested, ‘How do you expect me to look at anything else all evening when you look like that? It’s tormenting! Oh wait,’ he said dramatically, ‘I’m always tormented because you always look like that. I wonder if-'

‘If I kiss you, will you shut up?’ Cersei said, cutting him off before he could say anything more about how tormented he felt.

Her brother pretended to think about it before nodding.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Cersei placed a soft kiss to his lips, and he leant his forehead against hers when they broke apart.

‘Come on.’ She said after a pause, pulling him towards the lift. ‘And try not to stare at me too much all evening.’

*****

Once settled in the car, Jaime kissed Cersei’s hand before setting off.

They made the half-hour drive down to the river in a comfortable silence, but Jaime’s mind could not just focus on the road in front.

On a normal day he found it nigh on impossible to look away from her, so when she looked like _that_ , like some goddess from the heavens, well, he had no chance really.

His sister wore a crimson gown of the purest silk satin, fitting snugly over her slim waist and the curve of her hips before descending into a floor length skirt that shimmered as she walked. A plunging neckline and an open back revealed her flawless skin – but to Jaime’s trained eye he could see where she had spent time carefully covering up the angry red marks and bruises. A matching pair of deep red heels adorned her feet; her golden hair she had half done up in an elaborate up-do with curls framing her face, and the rest she let tumble in perfect waves to her waist. A precious gold and diamond necklace of their mother’s hung elegantly around her neck.

 _Well,_ he thought, _at least if we crash, she’ll be the last thing I see before I die._

It also didn’t help that part way through the journey Cersei’s hand fell down absent-mindedly to his thigh, tracing idle patterns as she looked out the window.

Parking the car at their destination, Jaime opened the door for his twin, and leaving her coat in the car she took the hand that he offered her.

‘Ready?’ He asked, fully aware of the risks they were committing to.

‘Ready.’ She affirmed, not a hint of doubt in her voice.

They were welcomed aboard the stationary riverboat by a man in a waistcoat who introduced himself as Jaqen H’ghar.

Heads turned their way as they walked through the crowd of guests; the Lannisters twins weren’t known for their looks for nothing.

It wasn’t long before they were accosted by Robert, his large and boisterous frame easy to spot among the gathering.

Cersei sighed as she saw her husband approaching. ‘You should leave.’ She whispered to Jaime as the boar made his way through the crowd, ‘It’ll be better for both of us.' Nodding stiffly, he squeezed her hand gently before parting from her side, watching as she put on a smile meet him.

Jaime felt his fists coil and jaw clench in anger and disgust as Robert greeted his wife, addressing her breasts rather than her eyes, and running a meaty hand across her hips and ass as he started to parade her around.

 _If only you knew how much she loathes you._ He thought bitterly. _If only you knew what was coming, you wouldn’t be parading her round like a horse then. You wouldn’t be touching her like you own her. She can’t be owned by anyone but me. She is me. We belong to each other. But you’re too much a blind fool to see that. You can’t see anything other than what’s in front of you, and that’s why you can’t see the storm to come._

Not interested in talking to the other guests, Jaime spent the majority of the next hour or so trying to evade engaging in polite and meaningless conversation, which for the most part had turned out harder than he had hoped.

Only his Uncle Kevan had been able to keep his attention for more than five minutes – and that was only because they had ended up talking about their other family members.

Trying too to take his mind off what the pig was doing to his sister, he instead focused his thoughts on the little vial that was nestled safely in an inside pocket of his jacket.

 _Soon,_ he told himself, _soon._

Luckily for him, soon came when he thought he couldn’t take one more minute of the insipid company.

Seeing a number of waiters bring out a few racks of wine and other liquors to replenish the supplies at the bar, Jaime took the opportunity to slip inside unnoticed to where he assumed the store of alcohol was kept.

Making sure he wasn’t being followed, he walked briskly until he found the desired room and crept inside, shutting the door behind him.

Scanning through the cabinets, he noticed that the older wines were being kept to his right. Jaime searched through their labels, looking for the first one he could find that was the only one of its year. A 1983 Bordeaux red wine fit his criteria. Taking it out of its holder, Jaime used all his strength to carefully prise the stubborn cork out from the bottle.

The cork out, he placed the wine bottle down onto a nearby table and took out the vial from his jacket. Having unscrewed the lid, he poured the crimson contents of the little glass container into the bottle, careful not to spill even one drop, and replaced the empty vial back into his jacket pocket before gently swirling the contents of the bottle.

As swiftly as he was able, but not without much difficulty, he replaced the cork into the bottle, twisting and pushing as hard as he could without breaking the glass so that no one could say that it was not previously unopened.

His mission accomplished, Jaime slipped out of the room, past the waiters who were still unloading the bottles, and back into the crowd.

*****

Seeing her twin appear once again among the guests, Cersei turned her attention to her next task.

She left Robert with a near empty glass and feeling up one of the serving girls, and made her way over to her cousin, who appeared to be in deep conversation with Littlefinger – or at least, he was listening very attentively to what Baelish had to say.

‘Lancel, dear cousin.’ she said sweetly, placing a hand on the 15 year old’s shoulder, his ears turning bright red as she addressed him. ‘Would you be so good as to ask a waiter fetch one of the finer bottles of wine? My husband would care for an older vintage. Ask Jaime – he’ll help you to know which one.’

Cersei watched with concealed amusement as Lancel nodded his head enthusiastically and bounced off in search of Jaime - the boy would use any excuse to talk to her twin.

‘Eager young lad.’ Petyr Baelish said, turning to Cersei. ‘Eager to please, some would say.’

‘Yes.’ She said, studying the slender man before her carefully, aware of his notorious clever tongue and boundless cunning and ambition. ‘He has always looked up to my brother.’

‘He wouldn’t be the only one, it seems.’ He said, taking a meagre sip of his wine. ‘And perhaps there is more to be said than just admiration.’

‘Perhaps. Perhaps not.’ She said steadily. ‘But dealing with maybes and ifs can be dangerous. Or _perhaps_ you’d be willing to find out how Ned Stark would react to your _admiration_ for his wife? I hear you’ve taken an interest in the company.’ she continued, cutting him off before he could reply. ‘A good working relationship with the Tyrells seems an interesting way to start. They were in staunch competition against the Tullys and the Starks not so long ago were they not? Or have you no regard for your own?’

‘I owe a great deal to the Tullys of Riverrun, it’s true.’ He replied. ‘But there comes a time when we’re no longer seen, that we have to make our way on our own. And anyway,’ he added in his crafty voice, ‘you can’t believe everything the Spider tells you. Myself, I’ve always had a hard time trusting eunuchs. Who knows what they want.'

Cersei huffed a laugh. ‘And what is it that _you_ want? What could a self-made man with no family hope to achieve in a world bent on tradition and history?’

‘Everything.’ He said, far too easily for her liking. ‘So many risk so little, and then they die.’ She followed his gaze to Jaime, who had returned with Lancel. ‘I’d risk everything to get what I want.’ He said, watching as her father started a conversation with her brother, whisking him off to a further part of the boat. ‘I’m sure I’m not the only one.’ His side eye sent a chill through her blood.

She feigned a smile at him as he turned back to face her. ‘Let’s hope you don’t risk too much then.’ She remarked coolly. ‘Excuse me.’ She said, growing bored and wary of his games, ‘I must return to my husband.’

Baelish inclined his head towards her in a gesture of compliance; she could feel his eyes on her as she walked away.

Not long after she found Robert talking to Ned and Catelyn Stark, Lancel returned carrying a bottle of 1983 Bordeaux red wine.

She thanked him sweetly and the boy ran off, no doubt to find someone else to pester.

Cersei called for a waiter to bring a corkscrew.

‘Give that here, woman!’ Robert said, ceasing his conversation with Stark and snatching the wine bottle out of her hands before yanking the cork out with brutal strength. ‘Don’t need a bloody corkscrew to do the job.’

Just as he was about to take a swig, however, Renly cruised into the scene, wine bottle in hand, and clearly many more already in his system –though even then, she was certain that he was not yet nearly as drunk as her husband already was.

‘Robert!’ He yelled merrily, ‘How about a challenge, brother! I drink this’ he shook the bottle, ‘and you drink that, and we’ll see who can finish it first!’

Some surrounding guests turned to watch the scene unfold.

‘My love I don’t think that’s a good idea.’ Cersei said calmly, though it made her cringe inside, but made sure that it was loud enough for everyone to hear.

‘Quiet woman!’ Robert snarled, ‘don’t dare to tell me what to do. See what she does to me? My loving wife.’ He said with contempt to no one in particular. She saw Catelyn raise her eyebrows in incredulity at her husband’s friend’s rowdy and brash behaviour, though she said nothing. ‘I accept your challenge, brother!’ He roared to a handful of cheers.

The attention of the gathering was now well and truly focused.

‘Robert are you sure you want to do that?’ Ned Stark asked, his thick Northern accent heavy and serious amid the merriment of the evening.

‘Oh come Ned, don’t be so fucking grim all the time!’ He said, clapping Stark animatedly on the shoulder. ‘You’re at a party, not some prison cell! Have some fun!’

And with that, Robert signalled to Renly for their competition to begin, both men gulping down the alcohol as fast as they could.

It was no surprise who won - the younger Baratheon was gagging at halfway by the time his brother had finished.

Cersei watched with a mixture of disgust and triumph as Robert paraded around like the heroic victor of some great conquest. It was pathetically ironic, she thought, when all he’d done was condemn himself. She was the true victor here, and the ignorant fool had fallen directly into her trap.

_He’d actually drunken it all. The stupid boar had actually drunken every last drop._

She couldn’t believe it.

A flood of satisfaction crept through her blood.

_He’d actually drunken it all._

She turned to seek her brother among the crowd, to share their shared success with him even if only in a knowing look of victory; she frowned when he was nowhere to be seen.

She wondered where he was.

In drunken celebration Robert suddenly smashed the bottle against a pillar, pulling Cersei from her thoughts with the sound of the shattering glass.

She shivered; she had heard that sound too many times, and each time it had never brought anything good for her.

‘Let’s have another!’ he roared riotously, placing an intoxicated arm around Renly’s shoulders. Stannis watched on with a clenched iron jaw. ‘Who will dare to challenge me?’ He snapped his fingers at a young waiter standing nearby. ‘Boy, get me another!’ The boy nodded and ran off hurriedly.

‘Robert, my love, you’ve already had too much to drink.’ Cersei said with strained innocence, walking in his direction and placing a hand on his fat arm as he swayed slightly next to Renly. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll get alcohol poisoning.’

 _Not that that’s the worst poison you’ll have to worry about tonight,_ she thought.

But Robert removed his arm from his younger brother with an angry grunt and swung at her instead, surprisingly fast for his frenzied state.

There were audible gasps as Robert’s fist struck her face, knocking her to the floor.

Cersei did not cry out, but composed herself and stood up, smoothing down her dress, and turned to look her husband in the eye, the silence of the surrounding crowd heavy in the air as they watched on.

‘I shall wear this like a badge of honour.’ She stated coldly, any former pretence dropped.

‘Wear it in silence or I’ll honour you again.’ He menaced, coming closer to tower over her, his breath reeking of alcohol. In the corner of her eye, she could see Margaery Tyrell constraining a smirk and the Tarth bitch looking back and forth between them as though she had been the one hit in the face.

‘Do you think that frightens me?’ She said quietly so only he could hear. ‘Do you think you can still frighten me with your threats after everything you’ve done?’

‘Oh believe me,’ he said, voice low but not low enough to not be heard by the group, ‘I can find a way to frighten you.’ He seized her arm with an iron grip and pulled her roughly towards him. ‘I can find many ways to frighten you. Or have you forgotten?’

‘Robert, look around you.’ She said steadily, though she could feel her heart racing in her chest.

_This was not how the evening was meant to go._

‘You don’t want to make more of a scene.’

But Robert ignored her, his fingers digging excruciatingly into her arm. ‘I said,’ he spat, raising his voice, ‘have you forgotten?’

‘Robert you’re hurting me.’ She stated, ignoring his question in turn.

‘Good.’ He said after a pause. ‘I want you to remember what happens when you don’t do as I say.’

Cersei could feel her stomach churning. _What if the poison didn’t work? What if he had drunk from the wrong bottle? Surely there was meant to be some sort of effect by now? What if it was all for nothing, and it only made things worse? Or what if it worked, but too late?_

‘Let me go.’ She implored, a foreign feeling of panic starting to seep through her blood.

 _No,_ she thought, _it has to work, it has to. There is no other option._

Her mind once again went to Jaime.

_Where was he?_

‘You’re not hiding away at your shit of a brother’s place tonight.’ Robert commanded, grabbing her other hand as she tried to use it to get free. ‘No, you’re coming back with me, and you will do exactly as I say. And if you don’t,’ he threatened, ‘well, your precious children will pay for their mother’s disobedience.’

‘You won’t touch them.’ She enunciated slowly, anger and protectiveness flooding into her voice, already strained with the pain that Robert was causing in her wrists, and was now starting to make her eyes water.

‘Oh yes I will.’ He said, no shadow of a doubt in his tone. ‘And I’ll make them watch what I’ll do to you. Because I am so fed up with you yellow haired cunts that I will take the utmost pleasure in teaching you a lesson.’

‘Ned!’ She heard Catelyn Stark call out to her husband. Then again, with more insistence, ‘Ned!’

‘Robert you forget yourself.’ The northerner called out roughly, interrupting Robert as he started to make another line of threats.

But Cersei was no longer listening to what he was saying; she felt numb inside, and barely registered that Varys too was saying something to her husband.

‘…perhaps not the best way.’ She caught the end of the eunuch’s powdery voice.

‘Oh will both of you shut your mouths!’ He shouted at them. The Spider backed down a little; Ned Stark took a step closer to his friend.

‘You’ll dishonour yourself forever if you carry on like this.’ Stark said sternly. ‘I’ve supported you since we were boys, without doubts, without second thoughts. But I will not support you in this. The Robert I grew up with didn’t tremble at the thought of defiance, nor did he threaten defenceless women and children. I thought you were a better man.’

‘Away damn you, I’ve done with you!’ Robert started to shout at Stark, his grip on Cersei’s arms still as relentless as Ned Stark held his ground.

But he did not get far with his curses, for another, more intimidating figure halted him.

‘You will stop this infantile behaviour at once, and my daughter will learn to hold her tongue.’ Tywin Lannister’s voice cut like steel, though he had barely raised his voice.

Appearing too at the scene, Jaime did not waste a second to move swiftly towards his sister, and making quick work of backing her husband away, she felt a wave of relief crash over her as he took her in his arms, a lone tear rolling down her cheek.

‘Now, when you’ve learnt to control yourself,’ she vaguely heard her father continue, ‘we have matters of business to discuss. Or are you too childish to hold a place in my company?’

For a split second, Cersei thought that Robert was actually stupid enough – or drunk enough – to retaliate to her father, but quickly enough he backed down with a glare and stormed off the boat, the gangplank trembling under his weight as he marched furiously ashore.

And bit by bit, sound started to resume among the gathering.

No one stopped to question the twins as they made their excuses and took their leave, the previous occurrence providing plenty enough reason.

But walking back towards the car, a woman’s voice called out. ‘Cersei!’ Catelyn Stark said, walking quickly to meet them as they turned around. When she reached them, however, she seemed uncertain on what to say.

‘I…I never knew.’ She said hesitantly. ‘I suppose I must have been blind. The way Ned spoke of him, I never thought… Myrcella, Tommen, Joffrey, are they…’ she trailed off.

‘They’re fine.’ Cersei interjected, though not unkindly, understanding what Catelyn was trying to do. ‘They’re fine.’ Of all the Starks, Catelyn was the only one that Cersei had never had anything particular against – though that wasn’t to say that she _liked_ her per se. She was just more tolerable than the rest of them; she supposed it was because Catelyn was a mother too, and Myrcella and Sansa were friends, and for those reasons, just for now, Cersei was willing to be amiable to her.

‘Thank you.’ She said softly, offering Catelyn a small smile. ‘I suppose we’ll see each other soon.’

They parted ways not long after, getting into the car as Catelyn returned to the boat.

As they drove off, however, they did not see that they were not the only ones to have left the gathering.

*****

Having noted the right direction, they made sure to park the car in a secluded spot a good distance away from where they were headed.

The darkness hung thick as they walked quietly through the near empty streets on the edge of the city, and a thin layer of mist hung in the air from the river running into Blackwater Bay. In the distance behind them they could see the lights of the river boat twinkling amidst the black night, yet it was far enough that the sounds of voices could no longer be heard.

The occasional streetlamp sent its golden light dancing over the water; Cersei was glad that she had remembered to put on her coat to dull the shimmering reflections of her dress.

Walking along the quayside, they slowed as they approached the foot of the underside of the large Blackwater Bridge, its colossal structure looming oppressively overhead. Hearing retching and the sound of splashing water coming from behind the support columns, the twins were metres away from approaching their target when they heard another voice sound out into the darkness.

‘We’ll speak on Monday.’ A man’s voice said sternly. ‘When you’ve regained your senses.’

Recognising their father, Jaime swiftly pulled Cersei into a nook in a wall to their right, mere seconds before they heard Tywin’s polished soles clacking crisply against the stones.

Silent, and with their bodies pressed close together, they hoped that the shadow would be enough to obscure their forms.

It had to be.

They held their breaths as the footsteps stopped; neither dared to look.

This couldn’t be the end already; they were so close.

Stillness and silence endured.

Then the footsteps moved on.

They could breathe.

Feeling each other’s hearts racing in their chests, they held the other close as they listened to the footsteps subside. It was far too close now to leave anything to chance.

Cersei shivered; with cold or anticipation she wasn’t sure.

Jaime held her tighter to him.

When they could no longer hear anything but their own heartbeats and the sounds of their hidden victim, they made the move back onto the cobbled street.

Too soon.

Another set of footsteps appeared.

Reacting in the only way he could think of, Jaime pressed Cersei up against the nearest wall and started to kiss her fiercely, his body concealing her to any passer-by.

Cersei reciprocated accordingly, and despite the situation, Jaime couldn’t help but think how pleasant his sister tasted, and how good her body felt against his.

It also occurred to him how they had been in a similar situation only a few hours previously – except this time, they were that many steps closer to becoming wanted for murder.

The passer-by however, (a ragged looking gentleman with a torn overcoat and a bottle of rum in hand), did not stop to uncover the identities of the young couple making out by a quayside wall, but only slurred at them as he walked past, mumbling about ‘the youths of today’ and that they should ‘get a room’.

They kissed until Cersei saw the man take a right at the end of the street, taking him away onto a different route.

They waited, breaths mingling in the cool night air.

When no one else appeared, they moved.

They moved swiftly and silently, lions stalking their prey, until they reached the columns supporting the bridge and slipped between them. There were only two metres or so of pavement behind the columns before it gave way to the cold, black water, and occupying those two metres, hunched over on all fours and vomiting into the water, was the man who the twins hated more than anything else in the world.

He didn’t notice that they were standing behind him until Cersei cleared her throat.

Robert whirled round and stood up, unsteady as he was on his feet, and reached out a hand to the concrete to support himself. A trickle of blood poured from his mouth.

‘You.’ He said vehemently, once he’d registered who they were, and made a lunge for Cersei.

But Jaime easily intercepted, and she did not hold him back as he punched her husband, landing each blow with such force, such loathing and anger, as though he could repay him in one stroke for all the bruises that Cersei had suffered at his hand.

‘Jaime.’ She warned after a while, seeing how her twin was slowly losing his grip on control in his anguish, and knowing that she had to do something before Jaime got too far carried away.

Her brother stepped back, panting hard, and looked down at the man whom he had allowed his children to call father, and who had gotten away with abusing, raping, and beating, his sister, his lover, for far too long. 

‘Doesn’t matter what I think now, what I’d do.’ He spat coldly, and if Cersei didn’t know her twin better, didn’t share his same feeling, the anger, and disgust, and hatred in his voice would have chilled her to the bone. ‘You’re at her mercy now. But I warn you, if you try to touch her, I won’t hesitate to make you bleed.’

‘You fucking bitch.’ He said, clutching his side as Jaime stepped back to her side. ‘What the fuck have you done?’

‘You drunk the wine.’ She laughed. ‘ _I_ told you not to. It’s not my fault you didn’t listen. And anyway, it’s not alcohol poisoning, don’t worry. It’s much, much worse.’

Robert went to retaliate, but stopped, clutching the base of his throat as he started to cough up a mixture of blood and vomit, falling to his knees on the ground.

Cersei grimaced; the smell was vile, but it soon turned to a smirk as she noticed that his ear was now bleeding too.

They waited for him to finish. Once he was quiet again, she continued.

‘I love Jaime.’ She stated, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘I love him. And no one can take that away from me. Especially not you. I want you to know that before you die. I love Jaime. I always have and I always will. I never loved you. I love him.’ she repeated, as her husband gawked up at her in shock and horror and anger, looking as though he had just witnessed something unimaginable, something impossible, and if he wasn’t subdued by so much pain, Cersei was certain that she’d be dead in an instant. ‘More than anything else in the world – except Joffrey, Tommen, and Myrcella, of course. We were right there in front of you and you didn’t see us. It’s quite amazing, really, how blind you were. All that time, and you thought you were the only one taking a lover. It makes me laugh,’ she said, ‘all those jokes you made about Jaime fucking me – you meant them to degrade me, but all you did was make yourself look like a fool. I fucked Jaime on the morning of our wedding’ she divulged, watching as blood started to pour more profusely from his nose, mouth, ears, how he started to scratch at his skin, ‘and I’ve fucked him thousands of times since then. And every time felt so good – you can’t even begin to imagine. Do you know what also felt good? That Jaime fathered my children, not you. Did you really think that I’d carry your children after everything you did to me? They have nothing to do with you. They’re mine. Mine and Jaime’s. And the best part? You never even knew. But Myrcella did. A six year old knew who her father was and you never even blinked an eye.'

'It’s just as well.’ she continued, lowering her voice. ‘You treated us badly enough without knowing. ‘Why?’ She demanded, hurt and anger apparent in her voice. ‘Why did you do what you did?’ She shook her head. ‘Doesn’t matter now. We all make our choices. You chose to behave as you did. And I told you, more than once, a Lannister always pays their debts.’

‘It made you feel powerful, didn’t it?’ she said, standing over him, pathetic on the ground. ‘Doing those things to me, to the children. Raping me, beating me, frightening me, humiliating me. Do you feel powerful now?’

Her response was a particularly nasty gagging sound, accompanied by Robert scratching at his left eye like a madman as a line of blood started to run from its corner.

‘It hurts doesn’t it?’ She said crouching down to look him straight in the eye, only needing to shift back slightly as Robert tried to swing a fist at her, but in doing so fell forward on all fours, clutching at his throat and tearing at his skin. ‘I wanted it to hurt. We searched for hours on end trying to find something that would cause the most agony.’ Cersei said matter-of-factly as Robert coughed up a huge amount of blood and various other things with it. ‘We couldn’t find anything at first. For quite a while, actually. But Qyburn’s the cleverest man I know, and he had made something that seemed very promising. It may not have been perfect, but it was the best chance I had, the only thing that came anywhere near close enough. For I realised,’ she continued, as though engaging in a light conversation, ignoring Robert’s anguished sounds of pain as he collapsed onto the floor writhing, his skin turning purple, ‘that what we were looking for simply doesn’t exist. That there is nothing that could possibly do justice to your vices, and to your crimes.’ ‘I can’t actually believe you drank it all.’ She said conversationally, though her heart was racing. ‘You were always a blind idiot, but that really was on a new level. What’s that? I’m sorry I can’t understand you. The choking makes it impossible to hear. Must be frustrating. What?’ she tried to make out any words through Robert’s incoherent anguished nonsense. ‘Kill you? You seem to be doing that quite well by yourself. I wouldn’t want to ruin the process.’

‘You made your choice,’ she finished viciously, ‘now you have to live with the consequence.’

Robert made a few more feeble jerks before he lay still, his body mutilated beyond recognition, and lying in a pool of deep crimson blood.

Lannister red.

But Cersei was not ready for him to be dead yet, he still needed him to pay for everything he’d done though he had already paid with his life. It was not enough. In a frenzy, she seized a nearby rock and started smashing it down onto his already broken corpse, the pain and hurt of the last twelve years of torment and abuse released with every blow she made, every strike harder, faster, until she felt Jaime’s arms around her and she cast the rock aside and sobbed against his chest.

‘Shhh.’ He soothed, holding her tight. ‘Shhh. It’s over. It’s all over now. It’s over.’

He held her until she was limp and spent in his embrace, and unable to shed one more tear.

‘Come on,’ Jaime said, taking her hand before shoving Robert’s lifeless corpse into the river with his foot. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

The realisation of what they’d done only started to hit her as they neared the car.

It was over. They had won.

She was free.

With delirium or relief, she did not know, Cersei started to giggle.

*****

The door to Jaime’s apartment clattered open at nearly one in the morning, and Tyrion looked up from his book to see his siblings stumble through the door, identical smiles lighting up their faces.

He was about to greet them, when he realised that they were kissing.

Each other.

Passionately.

 _Oh shit._ He thought refilling his glass, albeit not completely unamused.

‘Cersei, are you drunk?’ Tyrion asked, following them, wine glass in hand, as they meandered happily past the kitchen to the living room.

By the time he got there, he realised too late that he had made a mistake. He carried on nevertheless.

‘Not at all.’ She giggled, before pulling Jaime’s head back towards her once again, her fingers tangling into his hair.

He rolled his eyes. ‘Jaime?’

‘No I’m not a punk.’ He slurred, as Tyrion took a long drink.

‘Drunk, Jaime. D-R-U-N-K. Affected by alcohol to the extent of losing control of one's behaviour.’

‘Do I look drunk?’ He questioned, tilting his head to one side as he looked briefly at his brother.

‘Um, yes, very much.’ Tyrion replied, exasperated. ‘You are after all making out with your sister, in case you hadn’t noticed.’

‘Twin sister.’ Jaime corrected, holding his index finger up, not taking his focus away from Cersei.

Tyrion made a sound of incredulity. ‘Wow’ he said ‘you completely missed the point. It was the sister bit I was – you know never mind.’ He cut himself off as Jaime lost his footing and stumbled, accidentally pushing Cersei back onto the sofa behind her, and falling on top of her as they both laughed.

‘What are you doing?’ He asked exasperated as Jaime started to undo Cersei’s dress with one hand, pushing a strap down her shoulder, and his other hand slipped down to her thigh, pushing the fabric up her leg, all the while kissing at her neck as Tyrion tried his best to avert his gaze. ‘No please don’t answer that. What have you done?’

‘What do you mean baby brother?’ Cersei half laughed half gasped as Jaime’s hand slipped down between her legs as Tyrion grimaced. That was certainly not something that he had wanted to even think about on a normal Saturday evening.

No, scratch that.

_Ever._

‘What do I mean?’ he said incredulously ‘What do I-? I mean that there must be a reason for why you two are practically fucking in front of me. And Jaime hardly ever drinks, so something must have happened for you two to be so hammered. And I’m going to assume that it’s something good.’

Tyrion gave it a few moments for them to respond, but it soon became clear to him that they had forgotten he was even there.

‘Okaaay’ he said in surrender, placing a hand out in front of himself to block the view as Cersei undid the front of Jaime’s trousers, and reached her hand inside. ‘You know what? I’m going to take my drink and my remaining sanity somewhere else while you two finish up here. I’ve already seen way too much.’

‘Oh and please try to keep it down.’ He added over his shoulder as both Jaime and Cersei let out a loud moan.


	13. The Game Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you're all well :) I can only apologise for the longest delay yet - but then again it is my stupid fault for starting another fic and thinking I could manage two works in progress at the same time as well as being super busy - so if you're still reading, thank you so much for your patience! 
> 
> My PPP#8 goes to 'ain't it a gentle sound, the rollin' in the graves?' by lannisqueen. I'm sure most of you have probably already read it, but it's too good a fic not to include. Not only does it have such a great premise for a canon divergence AU, it is wonderfully executed, so very in character, and very well written! :) 
> 
> I've got to be honest I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter, but I didn't want to delay any longer, so... I hope you enjoy! :) :)

He was walking.

No – he was running. Well, he was trying to. His feet just wouldn’t move any faster.

The rain fell in droves around him, yet he could not feel the drops on his skin. The night was black, but the sky was streaked with violent and vibrant shades of oranges and reds and yellows, and a thick mist shrouded his path.

He seemed to be walking forever, and for no time at all.

Without touching the door handle he was inside the house. The phone that had been in his hand now vanished as he moved through miles and miles of corridors, familiar yet so unfamiliar, all the while acutely aware of his task, though not thinking on it for one second.

He knew she had called him. He did not know why.

All of a sudden he was at a dead end, only one door in front of him.

He heard a baby’s cry.

He went to push it open. The door disappeared.

He looked around.

He saw.

Tyrion woke suddenly with a start, his hands clammy, his heart racing.

He sat up, watching the weak morning light dance across the room as he urged his breathing to slow.

It was always the same, what he found behind that door.

He did not dream about it often, it was true, but when he did, he remembered. He remembered every last detail, saw it, felt it, as though it were the day that it had happened.

It made his skin crawl.

Getting out of bed, he cracked open a window, relishing in the cold air that passed over him as he looked out over the city below.

He remembered the room, how it had been eerily tidy save for a discarded hammer and the carpet stained newly crimson.

He remembered the sound of silence disturbed with an infant’s cries of distress.

He remembered the smell, how the air had been thick with alcohol and blood.

And he remembered his sister. Lying motionless on the floor, her golden hair stained with deep red, and her left side drowning in a scarlet sea, her shoulder and arm and god knows what else wounded in a way that should not have been humanly possible.

Her eyes had flicked to him as he had entered and what he had seen in them was perhaps the most shocking to him of all. The burning fire had gone from them, and it had pained him to see how tired, how broken she had looked.

He had realised then why she had not called Jaime to help her; she could not bear for him to see her like this, not least for the pain it would cause him, and she did not know what he would try to do to her husband.

He remembered how he had said to her that she would not survive without a doctor, and how she had told him bitterly that doctors could do fuck all for what Robert had done and could do, and how he should just let her die like she was sure he had always wanted.

And he remembered thinking how he could not let that happen. For Jaime, for their children, even for himself. The Cersei he knew would never surrender, would never rest until she got what she wanted - and not even then. And when it came to it, no matter their differences, he too had not wanted her to die. Despite everything, they were family, and the pride must protect their own.

He recalled taking his tiny nephew into his arms, rocking his little frame gently as his cries subsided, and holding him near to his mother as she reached out weakly to run a soothing hand over his head.

He recalled how he had called Qyburn as his sister’s breathing had faded, how they had managed to get Cersei to his place, how he had held Tommen as the peculiar doctor did what he needed to do to save her, before they had brought her to the very apartment he stood in now to recover.

He remembered the distraught and confused little faces of Joffrey and Myrcella on seeing their mother, their happy day out with their real father brought to a cruel end, and Tywin’s cold and accusatory stare on finding his daughter in that state before leaving promptly to ensure that it would remain a hushed affair.

And he remembered how Jaime had kept vigil by her bed day and night, not leaving her side unless he absolutely had to, and never for more than a few minutes at a time.

Draining the glass of water on his bedside table, Tyrion shook his head and made his way into the kitchen, pushing the memory to the back of his mind.

It was the only time that he had ever seen his brother cry.

*****

Jaime woke to the sound of an alarm piercing through his dream.

Groggily, he reached his hand in the direction of the noise, and having knocked his knuckles clumsily against the side of the coffee table, he finally felt his fingers clasp around its target and fumbled to turn the alarm off.

Tossing the phone away onto the floor, he turned his attention to the warm body next to him.

‘Morning.’ He said huskily, placing a light kiss to her lips.

‘Morning.’ She whispered with a smile as she ran her fingers gently through his sleep tousled hair.

He leaned down to kiss her again, and she sighed contentedly as their lips and tongues moved in a lazy dance, unhurried and unpressured to do anything else.

‘Jaime,’ Cersei whispered between kisses after a while, ‘your heart’s beating really fast.’

‘Hmm?’ he replied, refusing to stop kissing her. ‘I guess I’m not used to hangovers. I’m sure it’ll go away soon.’

She smiled against his lips. ‘Jaime,’ she tried again as he moved down to kiss her neck, ‘that’s not how hangovers work. If you do nothing, it won’t get any better for a while.’

‘Come on.’ She commanded, tapping his shoulder and stopping him from going any lower, as he huffed like a child denied their favourite treat. ‘Sit up slowly.’

But unfortunately for Jaime, his definition of slow did not match his sister’s, and as soon as he had sat up, he felt his head spinning as a tidal wave of dizziness swept over him, and he was certain that he would have fallen back down had it not been for Cersei’s grip on his arm keeping him upright.

‘I said slowly.’ She laughed as he put a hand to his forehead in an attempt to stop the whirling of the room.

‘Not funny.’ He mumbled, although she could see a hint of an amused grin flit across his features. ‘I shouldn’t have drunk so much last night.’

‘You didn’t actually drink that much.’ She confessed. ‘And anyway, we had a lot to celebrate.’

‘Yes we did.’ He affirmed quietly, his grin reappearing as he met her lips again.

When they broke apart, Jaime had his first opportunity that morning to get a real look at the room around him, and despite his pounding head and eyes squinting against the excruciatingly painful morning light, the mess of last night’s activity was slowly revealed to him.

Various items of their clothing and possessions were in disarray all over the floor, cushions from the sofa had been dislodged from their seats, and he was pretty sure that even some furniture had been knocked out of their places.

It had only just occurred to him that on the coffee table in front of the sofa there had been placed two large glasses of water, each accompanied by two little white capsules of Anadin Extra. A note lay in between the glasses. With the twins having taken the medication and drained the water, Jaime read what the message had to say.

_After what I saw last night, you should be grateful that I didn’t give you a different kind of wake up call. Or any kind of wakeup call at all. It’d serve you right if the children saw you. You are the very opposite definition of subtle. And now you need to eat properly and drink lots of water, because I am NOT dealing with your hungover asses._

It was only when Jaime had read the note that it even crossed his mind that they had not set the alarm themselves. He pondered how Tyrion had managed to get into his phone, before remembering that he had given him the passcode ages ago.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a hand waving in front of his eyes.

‘Hello?’ Cersei said, rapping gently on his shoulder playfully. ‘Anyone there?’

‘How many times can you read one piece of paper?’ she said when he turned to her.

Before he could answer her, Jaime felt a wave of nausea seep through him, and he leaned forward to rest his head in his hands to try to quiet the sensation.

‘You really haven’t drunk that much in a while, have you?’ She giggled, stroking her hands gently through his hair.

When it subsided, he sat back up again.

‘Is this how Tyrion feels every morning?’ Jaime groaned.

‘No,’ Cersei said, biting back more laughter, ‘his tolerance is considerably higher than yours.’

‘How are you feeling? Are you ok?’ He asked, running a hand tenderly over her cheek, careful to avoid the bruise still blossoming angrily over her skin. 

She kissed the palm of his hand. ‘I’m fine.’ She said, taking his hand in hers; even when he felt crap, when he was in pain or suffering, he always, without fail, made sure that she was okay too, always put her before himself. No one else had ever done that for her, only ever Jaime, and she felt her love for him multiply, although in truth that their love should increase was a near impossible feat.

She felt a sudden surge of emotion crash over her, though how much was due to her hungover state – though relatively mild – she was uncertain, and responded in the only way impulse would allow: by kissing him, hard.

Her hands snaked into his hair as his fell to her waist, tugging her towards him until she moved onto his lap. She ran her hands up and down his strong, toned chest, bared where the buttons of his shirt had been undone the previous night. The rising desire between them seemed more palpable with every touch, so much so that Cersei was certain that if any stranger had walked in at that moment, they would have been choked and suffocated by the blazing inferno that was their bliss and passion and other’s downfall and entrapment, far too powerful for any mere mortal to withstand; the dance of the Elysian lions is not to be tempted.

They broke apart for a moment to catch their breath.

‘Shower?’ Cersei suggested, breathless. Though the last thing she wanted was to stop what they had started, she was aware that the living area was probably not the most sensible of choices, especially at that time of the morning. Tyrion was right; any of the children could see them.

‘Shower.’ Jaime confirmed with a nod of his head, and without saying anything more, he carried his twin towards his en suite, only barely avoiding a handful of accidents on the way.

*****

By the time Cersei had finished drying her hair, Jaime was out, dry, and dressed.

Although the temptation of having Cersei, naked and stunningly beautiful before him, had been painfully acute, it was his hangover that had ultimately won the battle of desire, and after three near accidents, Cersei had decided that however much she wanted him to take her there and then, it just wouldn’t work without someone getting injured – or the shower getting broken.

While he waited for his sister to finish her after-shower routine, Jaime sat on the edge of his bed; although he couldn’t say without lying that he felt completely back to normal, thankfully the water, and the medicine that was his twin’s smile and laughter, seemed to have cleared his head a bit, and at least for now he felt relatively human.

A strange, indescribable calm passed over him; yesterday’s events seemed a whole other world away - they may not have even happened for all he knew - and yet their world seemed just that much brighter, as though a huge weight had been lifted, the calm after the most oppressive and violent of storms.

It was as though nothing, yet everything, had changed.

The morning light danced merrily across the room, reflecting off the silver frame of one of the photos on his bedside table, bathing it in a golden light as if chosen by an otherworldly force.

Jaime picked up the picture, and studying its contents he felt himself smiling fondly at the memory depicted within.

They were in Spain, inside the Alcázar Palace of Seville, himself, Cersei, Tyrion, and the three children. Tommen had only recently turned two. It had been the last leg of their road trip through Spain, starting in Asturias and weaving their way down across the country: Asturias, León, Bilbao, San Sebastián, Pamplona, Zaragoza, Barcelona, Valladolid, Salamanca, Madrid, Valencia, Alicante, Murcia, Cartagena, Granada, Córdoba, and finally Seville.

It had been the best four weeks of his life; Cersei had been the happiest that he had ever known, none of the usual things had seemed to bother her, and the children had not stopped smiling and laughing the entire journey. It had been the closest that they had ever got to being allowed to be a normal family. Oh, and the fact that he and Cersei had been able to sleep in the same bed each night, and wake up in each other’s arms each morning, only needing to worry about getting up just a tiny bit before the children. Yes, that really had been the best four weeks ever.

‘What you got there?’ A soft voice asked behind him suddenly.

He turned round to face Cersei watching him from across the room, dressed in a soft bathrobe, her hair, now dry, flowing in perfect, shining golden waves around her.

‘Spain.’ He said, gesturing with the photo. He needed not to say anything more – they both knew how much that time had meant.

‘That was a good trip.’ She said, coming towards him.

‘It was.’ He affirmed, offering her the photo.

Jaime watched her attentively as her eyes wandered fondly over the photo, a gentle smile playing on her features as she recalled the glorious, happy, carefree time that they had all spent together.

Completely lost in the memory, Cersei remained unaware of Jaime’s gaze, which in turn had started to roam over the other glorious picture standing in front of him, flawless and divine, and his desire grew, insatiable, with every second he spent looking at her.

The need to touch her burning, he stood up to meet her and pulled her closer gently by the ties of her bathrobe, and slipping his hands to caress her waist, he leaned in to place a slow, sensuous kiss to her neck, relishing in the warmth of her body, and the sweet taste of her skin.

When he pulled back, it was to find her looking at him, green eyes on green with the dark fires of desire blazing beneath each emerald hue.

Not dropping her gaze, she handed the frame back to him without a word, where he placed it back down on his bedside table, he, too, unable to look away from her.

‘Cersei…’ he whispered lowly, his voice catching in his throat.

A moment of stillness passed between them before the air itself seemed to implode. Grasping his neck, Cersei yanked her twin’s head towards her, crashing their lips together in an unabashed, shameless act of lust.

Moving his hands to undo the tie of her bathrobe, Jaime backed his sister up against the bed, but miscalculating his strength in his fervour, he sent them tumbling back onto the soft sheets.

‘You hurt my leg.’ She said matter-of-factly as he lay over her, one hand trailing over the curves of her figure, his lips worshipping the sensitive spot on her neck.

‘Kiss it better?’ he offered, lowering himself down her body and pressing a series of kisses to the inside of her thighs.

‘You’ve just ruined an innocent phrase.’ She gasped, as Jaime’s lips finally came to rest between her legs.

He grinned against her as he worked his mouth and tongue against her sensitive flesh, savouring the taste, the scent that was so unmistakably Cersei, knowing precisely what to do where and when to make her squirm under his touch, until she came trembling before him, moaning his name breathlessly as though he were her God and she were at his altar.

Pleased that he brought her to pleasure, Jaime crawled back up her body to kiss her as she came down from her high, allowing her to pull his t-shirt off over his head, and rocking his hips gently against hers with a subtle rhythm as he sought friction for his throbbing manhood against her body.

As though sensing his thoughts, Cersei reached a hand down between them, smirking as she found him fully hard beneath her touch. Grabbing the waistband of his trousers, she attempted to undo the buckle of his belt, but for all her impatient wrestling with the contraption, she just couldn’t undo it.

‘You do it.’ She huffed, contenting herself instead to stroke his cock through his trousers, satisfied with his groans as he bucked into her hand, the distraction causing her brother to take much longer to remove his belt than it would normally have taken, albeit still much quicker than Cersei had been taking.

However, when he went to remove his trousers, she stopped his movements.

‘Oh fuck the trousers,’ she cursed, seizing his shoulders to not allow him to get up, ‘there’s a zip for a reason. I’m done waiting. I want you now.’

Smiling at her impatience, Jaime manoeuvred himself out of his underwear and trousers, and guiding his length inside her, he kissed her deeply with each thrust, a silent promise of his devotion, of his trust and of his love that needed not be said out loud.

Jaime felt her nails digging into his back as he moved deeper inside her, holding him flush against her, not allowing any space to come between them; there would be no impurities within their perfect completion.

No matter how they tried to control it, their moans and cries of pleasure increased as the sweet pressure within them built, overpowering any other thought or sentiment that was not made of their twin’s flesh, and their rhythm, equally as matched with each other in its steadiness as its irregularity, became ever more frantic as they drove each other towards a heavenly bliss that was for them alone to create.

Cersei threw her head back onto the bed as she came shuddering beneath him, her cunt clenching vigorously around his pulsating cock, and he groaned her name into her neck as he spilled inside her, his movements gradually slowing to a stop as they bathed in the pleasures of their other half for a long, peaceful moment.

When he was too soft to stay inside her, Jaime took a tissue from his bedside table and haphazardly cleaned the evidence of their joining before rolling onto his side to face his twin, discarding the tissue to one side.

Cersei had not moved since they had finished, and was lying on her back, a light sheen of sweat covering her skin, her bathrobe and hair sprawled around her, her eyes closed, and a satisfied smile on her face.

As he watched her quietly, looking so calm and happy and peaceful, he decided that however shitty he had felt that morning, and whatever the consequences for what they’d done the previous night, it was worth all of it just to see her like this.

‘What are you thinking of?’ He asked quietly after a while, running a hand through her golden tresses as she slowly opened her eyes and turned her head to face him.

‘I’m happy.’ She said after a pause, tracing idle patterns on his upper arm. ‘I have you, I have the children safe, and I’m… freer.’

 _Yes,_ he thought as he kissed her softly, _it was definitely worth it._

*****

Having left Cersei to get dressed, Jaime made his way towards the kitchen, having stopped to do a quick tidy up of the living area on his way.

Not looking where he was going, he nearly crashed into Tyrion who also seemed to have the same idea.

‘Morning, brother.’ Tyrion said, setting an empty glass down on a counter.

‘Morning.’ He replied, not without some feeling of guilt.

‘How much of that did you see?’ Jaime asked tentatively as he started making coffee, gesturing as to whether his brother would like some, to which he nodded yes.

‘Too much.’ Tyrion replied, sitting down at the kitchen island.

‘Sorry about that.’ He said apologetically, ‘Just… got a bit carried away.’

‘Don’t need to know.’ He protested, holding up a hand.

‘And thanks for the wakeup call – and the Anadin.’ Jaime said, handing Tyrion a mug of coffee.

‘No problem. Just... don't make it a habit. You know,’ Tyrion mused, taking a sip, ‘I don’t know if I’ve ever met any other 31 year old before who hasn’t experienced a huge hangover.’

‘That’s because all the people you hang out with, drink.’ He said, sitting opposite his younger brother and set another mug in the adjacent place. ‘Mainly because through drinking’s how you met them.’

‘I suppose you have a point.’ Tyrion said. ‘But drinking makes everything so much more fun. Or at least, it takes away the boredom.’ He shrugged. ‘Goes either way. What happened that made you two want to get so pissed anyway?’

‘A very tedious party, awful conversation, Ned Stark, Petyr Baelish, Stannis, Lancel, and Robert’s behaviour. Oh, and father.’ Cersei’s voice answered before Jaime could say anything.

‘Was it that bad?’ Their younger brother enquired.

‘Worse.’ She said, sitting next to Jaime and picking up her coffee. ‘Renly challenged Robert to drinking competition, the fool got completely wasted, he took it out on me in front of everyone, Stark got involved then father told Robert to stop behaving like a child, then my dear husband stormed off the boat in a rage like a two year old.’

‘Where did he go?’

‘Not a clue. He’s dead in a ditch somewhere for all I care.’ She said through gritted teeth.

‘Well, it’s no secret now what Robert’s like, what he’s done.’ Tyrion said. ‘Not if everyone saw it.’

‘I suppose so.’ She agreed quietly.

‘And if they were to ask you again, about what he’s done, what would you say?’ Her younger brother asked.

She paused to consider for a moment before meeting her twin’s eyes. ‘I’d bring him down as far as is possible. I’d ruin him until there was nothing left.’

Before anyone could say anything else, however, Myrcella and Tommen bounded cheerily into the kitchen, breaking the quietness that had settled.

Myrcella hopped up into the spare stool next to her mother, while Cersei pulled Tommen up to sit on her lap, pressing a kiss to his head as he nestled himself comfortably against her chest.

‘Where’s Joff?’ She asked, running her hand through her daughter’s hair.

‘Watching television.’ Myrcella replied, reaching for an orange from the fruit bowl in the middle of the counter.

‘What’s that on your trousers?’ she asked innocently after a pause, pointing at a splodge of white on Jaime’s trousers, before peeling her orange.

Cersei bit her lip in an attempt not to laugh and gestured for him to answer, while Tyrion pulled a look of amused and disgusted exasperation.

‘Oh, umm’ Jaime said, really wishing he had checked himself before he had gotten up, ‘It’s just some mayonnaise. I made a sandwich earlier.’

‘We have no bread.’ She observed pointedly. ‘We finished it yesterday.’

‘I never said I used bread.’ He countered, reaching for a piece of kitchen paper to wipe his trousers clean.

‘But you said you had a sandwich.’ She said, browed creased.

‘Who says that you have to have bread to have a sandwich?’ He asked.

‘Well, what else did you have with it?’

‘Eggs.’ He replied, as Cersei rolled her eyes and Tyrion wrinkled his nose.

‘Mummy you have some on your leg too.’ Tommen pointed out, indicating to a small smear near her knee, laid bare by her shorts, as the smile was wiped off her face.

‘That’s because I had an egg sandwich too.’ She said, scraping off the ‘mayonnaise’ with her finger and placing it slowly into her mouth with exaggerated movements as Tyrion groaned loudly and put his head in his hands and Jaime chuckled softly.

‘What’s wrong with Uncle Tyrion?’ Tommen asked, not understanding what was going on.

Looking between her parents, Myrcella looked equally as confused as her brother.

‘Nothing, darling.’ She replied, laughing softly.

‘Mummy, do we have to go back home soon?’ Myrcella asked, looking up at her mother.

‘No, sweetheart,’ Cersei said, placing a kiss on her daughter’s head, ‘we can stay here for as long as you want, okay?’

Myrcella beamed at the response.

‘What do you want for breakfast?’ Jaime asked, as Tommen and Myrcella deliberated the question. ‘If we’ve got it, you can have it.’

‘Pancakes!’ Tommen shouted excitedly, as Myrcella chorused his enthusiasm.

‘Pancakes? I think I can manage that. Who wants to help me?’ He said, as the children promptly climbed down from their seats and ran towards him. Cersei smiled at the scene before her, the unbridled happiness warming her heart.

Feeling her younger brother’s gaze on her, she turned to meet his eyes across the table, and from his expression, she had the feeling that he had more questions that were yet to be answered.

‘Mum, come here quickly!’ Joffrey’s shouted suddenly from the living area.

Abandoning what they were doing, they all hurried towards where Joffrey was, finding him standing before the television, a shocked expression written all over his features.

Standing behind her son, Cersei placed her hands on Joffrey’s shoulders and watched what he was watching. The rest of them gathered round, silent, as a newsreader announced the latest breaking news.

‘Millionaire businessman Robert Baratheon has been found dead early this morning in Blackwater Bay. His cause of death is currently unknown, as are any suspects, but the investigation is already underway. However there has been some controversy surrounding his death due to accusations made against him last month concerning abusive behaviour towards his wife. Our correspondent Daario Naharis reports.’

 _Shit._ Cersei thought, catching Jaime’s gaze across the room as the report moved to a reporter standing by the river. _Oh shit._

Somewhere, a phone rang.

*****

On her way to the police station, Cersei hadn’t quite yet made up her mind as to how she wanted to act.

To seem too affected would rouse as much suspicion as showing too much indifference. No, she had to get the balance right if she wanted to steer clear of becoming a suspect. After all, Ned Stark had no limit for his suspicion about Lannisters, whether indeed true or false.

Entering through the doors at the entrance, she was immediately greeted by the receptionist, who, head bowed, lead her to Stark’s office through the sterile, hospital-like corridors.

 _Fitting,_ she mused, _a sterile place for a sterile man._

‘Cersei.’ Stark said, northern accent thick and grim, as the door was closed behind her. ‘Please, have a seat.’

She cast a wary look around the room before taking the chair opposite his desk.

‘This is officer Tarth, officer Cassel, who I believe you’ve met.’ He said, indicating to the two people seated on his right. She glanced at them briefly before turning her attention back to Ned. ‘And this is Dr Samwell Tarly.’ He indicated to his left, where a pudgy young man sat with a clipboard. ‘Our psychologist and associate scientist. I’m sure you know why I’ve called you here, and-‘

‘Cut to the chase, Stark.’ She said curtly. ‘What do you want from me? We both know that I had little love for my husband, so if you’re looking for someone to simper and sing his praise and innocence, then you’ve got the wrong person. And if you’re here to accuse me, I advise you to have evidence before you insult me with false and empty allegations.’

‘I know the truth about you and Robert.’ He said simply, his expression hard as stone.

Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at him. He couldn’t possibly be implying that he knew about her hand in his death, could he? She doubted it. He was never ahead of the game. More likely he was referring to more information he’d discovered about their relationship. All the same, she did not like his words.

‘Do you, Stark?’ she said steadily. ‘Is that why you’ve called me here, to pose me riddles?’

Cold grey eyes met their fiery emerald rivals as Ned and Cersei stared at each other coldly across the desk.

‘Has he done this before?’ Stark said after a pause, gesturing towards her cheek.

Her silence was his answer as she broke his gaze, turning her head to the side to reveal more of the injury Robert had dealt her.

‘How many times?’ His gruff voice asked.

‘Doesn’t matter now, does it?’ she replied quietly, meeting his eyes again. ‘He did what he did. It can’t be changed.’

‘You told me that he’d never laid a hand on you.’ The blonde officer spoke up, a slight frown creasing her large forehead; she was clearly not used to a game of manoeuvres and deceit, ironic considering that her work threw her right in the midst of dishonest and scheming behaviour.

‘I lied.’ She said plainly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

‘Why did you lie to me?’ Tarth said steadily and seriously, her piercing blue eyes revealing a youthfulness that Cersei had not noticed before – in fact she could hardly have been older than her mid-twenties -, and despite her dislike for the tall, ugly cow, she couldn’t help feeling some degree of pity for her complete incognizance about the dangerous game she didn’t know she was failing to play. ‘We could have helped you.’

Irked by her last comment, Cersei finally settled on how she wanted to play her card. ,em>Fuck it, she thought, ,em>if details about Robert’s behaviour are going to come out, they will come out on my terms.

‘Do you love your children?’ Cersei asked suddenly, turning back to Ned and ignoring her question.

‘With all my heart.’

‘No more than I love mine. I’d do anything to keep them safe.’

‘Are you asking me to believe that that’s why you stayed with him?’ he said incredulously. ‘To keep them safe? Why not leave? Both of you would have been happier. Some might say that looks more like a cover.’

Cersei laughed a bitter laugh.

‘Some might. But do you really think it works like that? Do you really believe that it’s as easy as just walking away? Do you have any idea what it’s like to have your children threatened? To fear for their safety?’

Cersei wondered whether perhaps she was laying it on a bit thick, whether it was perhaps too unbelievable, but at the end of the day, what she was saying wasn’t exactly a lie, and at that moment she couldn’t truly bring herself to care. She wanted to stain Robert’s reputation beyond repair, and if she could taint his best friend’s view of him as she went, she’d take that as yet another victory. A little bit of the sympathy vote from the others could also go a long way in helping her to steer clear of blame.

‘You knew him, Stark,’ she continued, not forgetting to add a hint of pained emotion into the bitterness of her voice, ‘you saw him as your friend, but you don’t know what he was really like. You don’t know what he was capable of. Or maybe you do, but you don’t want to admit it. There was no get out clause, not with my father backing him too. He saw you as his equal. I was his trophy, sold to him like a horse to be ridden whenever he desired.’

Seeing Tarth’s look of shock and horror, Cersei was satisfied. _Good,_ she thought, _let her think that I’d have no chance against him, that I wouldn’t be capable of murdering him._

‘You never saw the other side of him. He was always stronger than me. Even when he was drunk he was fierce. He never had any trouble holding me down. Let’s be plain, Stark. Robert could, and did, do whatever he wanted with me, whatever and whenever he desired. Whatever I did, said, didn’t matter. Some way or another, Robert always got his way, and he hated horses who kicked. ’

‘You’ve always hated him.’ Stark said stiffly, though his eyes gave away his uneasiness with what she had said.

‘Hated him? No, not at first. I thought he was a better man. Then every day it became harder to even like him after he did what he did.’

‘I loved Robert as a brother,’ he said, clasping his hands together on the table, ‘but I won’t claim that his acts were always honourable. All the same, I need to find out what happened to him. And for that to happen, I need you to tell me what you know.’

‘What makes you think I know anything?’

‘What kind of enemies did he have?’ He asked, running a hand exhaustedly through his hair. It seemed that the investigation was already starting to take its toll on him.

‘Angry husbands and fathers, rival business partners, people he insulted while drunk. Or did it ever occur to you that he might have had alcohol poisoning? I warned him about drinking too much, and you know that he refused to listen. You couldn’t help him, you couldn’t change him. He did what he wanted, which is all he ever did. I wouldn’t be surprised if it caught up with him in the end.’

Stark gave a fatigued sigh. ‘Where did he go? After he left the boat?’

‘You tell me, you were there longer. Robert wanders off drunk all the time. How would I know that this would be any different?’

‘Where does he normally go?’

‘To see his whores I presume.’

‘Who are they?’

‘How should I know? I haven’t met them.’

Turning wearily to his right he addressed Cassel and Tarth. ‘Find them, whoever they are. Contact these… ladies, and find out if Robert was with them last night, or if they’d seen him.’

With only a moment’s hesitation, the two officers left in silence to attend to their new task.

When the door had shut behind them, Ned spoke again.

‘And where did you go after you left?’

‘To Jaime’s apartment. We’re staying there for the time being. Your wife saw us off.’

‘And your father?’

‘What about him?’ She asked, a crease lining her forehead though she knew exactly what he was talking about.

‘He left the boat too. Might Tywin Lannister have any knowledge as to what happened to Robert?’

She paused for a moment, studying the haggard, hard face of the man before her.

‘Is there ever anything of importance that happens in this country without my father knowing?’

 _Yes,_ she thought, _he couldn’t see his own children right under his very nose. And it’s likely that he knows nothing about Robert’s murder either._

With an air of weary resignation, Ned nodded his head gently.

‘This won’t be an easy investigation for you.’ He said roughly, though not completely unkindly.

‘Nothing’s easy, Stark.’ She said. Except loving Jaime and our children. That’s the easiest thing in the world. ‘And I’ve had worse.’

In the quiet that fell, the pudgy doctor in the corner spoke up, having been observing in silence the whole time. She saw that his clipboard was full of notes. ‘Well, I suppose you could say that life is irregular, and –’ He faltered as both Cersei and Ned turned to look at him, his sing-song voice becoming more serious. ‘…and… if it is convenient for you, Mrs Baratheon, I would like to arrange a meeting to further discussion concerning issues brought up in this conversation as part of the investigation.’

‘Very well.’ She said with finality, standing up to leave. ‘Contact my assistant at my office.’ She turned to Stark. ‘If there’s nothing more.’

She saw herself out.

*****

Walking along the street on her way back home, Cersei couldn’t help the smile that was tugging at her lips. When word got out, Robert’s reputation would be tarnished beyond measure, and if someone else was found as a suspect, she and Jaime would be able to triumph in their victory in the knowledge that Robert would be ruined irreparably, and they would not be touched.

They would be free.

A voice behind her pulled her out of her thoughts.

‘Looking rather happy for a newly widowed woman.’

She turned round to meet Petyr Baelish, studying the slender, sly man for a moment before speaking carefully.

‘I’m afraid my husband did little to merit my affection and indeed my grief.’

‘Yes, the rumours of his… behaviour are well known. More so now than ever before.’ He said, coming to walk beside her as she resumed her movement.

‘Robert will be mourned by few.’ He continued, his mockingbird brooch glinting in the morning sun, matching uncannily the glint in his eye. ‘The man was not well loved. It would be a shame for the wrong person to take the blame for his death.’

‘Yes it would.’ She said simply. ‘Though unfortunately for many, such misfortunes are a common occurrence. If only there were ways for one to assure that the right people got what they deserved.’

‘And have you shared these suspicions about the right people with your father?’

‘My father’s a practical man. He appreciates facts.’

‘Myself, I often find them a hindrance. Facts are only as useful as the purpose they serve to those who wield them. Look at your husband. Robert had a purpose. Now he’s served that purpose. And a man who is not needed, well… there’s not much use in him being alive. Rumour, on the other hand, has endless possibilities.’

‘Indeed.’ she said, as they stopped walking. ‘Though it would be a pity for others to meet the same fate before their time because they failed to meet their purpose.’

She smiled at him, and in his eyes saw a brief flicker of something – was it fear? Or was it opportunity?

‘My father rewards those who are loyal to our family, as you well know. He’s almost as generous to those who help us as he is unpleasant towards those who don’t.’

‘As I said,’ he repeated, his tone turned more serious, ‘it would be a shame for the wrong person to take the blame. Although of course, there are many who would have much to gain from such treachery, people who were climbing a ladder, and your husband was on their next rung. Even so, it would be such a tragedy for it to cause a rift between brothers, so soon after demise.’

‘Yes, a real tragedy.’ She said, ‘to divide those whose loyalties are already divided.’

Not allowing him to have the final word, Cersei continued. ‘I must return home. As I’m sure you’re aware, there’s a lot to be doing.’

Turning her back to him, she walked away.

She felt her heart beating faster in her chest, her mind racing as she walked briskly along the pavement. _Did he know? How much did he know? Or did he in truth know nothing and was only playing a hunch?_

She knew that he was a rational man, and she knew that he understood how to play the game, and play it well. He’d know that there was little gain for him in supporting a case to implicate her, and he was well aware that his fate would follow Robert’s within the day if they caught a hint of betrayal. But she knew too that his loyalty could make the difference between their freedom and their downfall, and if he so chose, that his allegiance could help bring the revenge she wanted against the Tyrells for their meddling and plotting using her family as their prey.

But what she did not know, and what bothered her the most, was whether the enticement of gain from her family, and the fear of consequences would be enough to ensure his loyalty, even if only for a short time.

She supposed that the easiest thing to do would be to have him killed, or at least silenced, but she was intrigued by his manner and his cunning, and the prospect of the benefits for his loyalty at least for now seemed to outweigh the risks.

Nearing Jaime’s apartment, Cersei decided that she would give the strange man a chance first.

*****

‘Okay,’ Tyrion said, reaching for an egg from the carton. ‘Now we just need to add two eggs, and we can mix it.’

Myrcella nodded enthusiastically as she watched him break two eggs into the bowl. They had decided to bake a cake to pass the time until Cersei came back while Tommen was napping and Joffrey and Jaime were watching a football match in the living room.

As they worked, Tyrion found his thoughts wondering to that morning’s news. That no one in the household had been particularly affected by the news was unsurprising, after all, Robert had deserved no love from any of them, but he was almost certain that his siblings had something to do with Robert’s death, if nothing else than because it would perfectly explain their ecstatic behaviour from the previous night; if he was right, he hoped very much for their sake that they had been clever about their involvement. He supposed that it would be just one of those things that they knew he suspected, but they would never actually talk about it out loud.

But as Myrcella chattered happily to him about this and that, he also found himself thinking, not for the first time in the past few days, about how much she knew about his siblings’ relationship.

‘Now, do we add cinnamon or not?’ He asked, handing her the small jar.

She nodded in response. ‘Mummy loves cinnamon.’

‘Did she tell you that?’ He questioned as he watched her pour in a sizeable amount.

‘No, Daddy told me.’ She said casually.

He did a double take as he heard her words – had that been an accident or had she meant what she said?

She stopped suddenly with a gasp, realising what she had said, and covered her mouth with her hands in shock, her eyes starting to well with tears.

‘Did Robert tell you that, or Jaime?’ He asked gently, knowing full well that Robert barely even knew how old his alleged children were, let alone what his wife liked.

‘Jaime.’ She said, her voice barely a whisper, confirming to him that his suspicions had been right all along. He couldn’t truthfully say that he was shocked. ‘But I promised mummy that I wouldn’t tell anyone.’ She blurted out before he could say anything else, ‘I promised her, and now she’s going to be upset with me. I didn’t mean to! Are you going to tell?’

Tyrion shook his head gently, and crouched down to her level, placing a hand on her shoulder.

‘Your mother could never be upset with you. She loves you far too much. More than anything else in the world. And do you know why else I know that mummy won’t be upset with you?’ She shook her head as she at him. ‘Because… I already know. About mummy and Jaime. And mummy knows that I know. So no harm’s been done. Everything will be ok, I promise.’ He assured, placing a kiss to the golden crown of her head.

She tilted her head to the side and contemplated this for a few moments, letting his words sink in.

‘You already knew?’ She murmured, her tears replaced with curiosity.

‘I’ve known for a long time.’ He said softly, ‘Ever since we were children really. I don’t think there’s ever been a time when they didn’t love each other.’

He felt slightly strange talking to his niece about her parents', his siblings', relationship, but at the same time, he reasoned that she had the right to know - and he was curious himself.

‘How did you know?’ He asked with furrowed brows.

‘I just… knew. Whenever daddy was around mummy was happy. She smiled a lot. And laughed. And I saw them kissing. They weren’t very s-su-b, sub-tle.’ She said, her features tugging into a small, triumphant grin.

‘No they’re really not.’ He chuckled softly, glad to see her happy again. ‘Where did you learn that word?’ he asked, impressed.

He raised an eyebrow amused, as she looked up at him guiltily. ‘I read it on the message you left for mummy and daddy this morning.’

‘It was under the sofa.’ She added quickly, as he began to laugh. ‘I put it in the bin so no one would find it.’

‘Do you think you and me’, he said conspiratorially, ‘need to tell them to stop being so obvious?’

She nodded her head in agreement, pleased to share the secret with her uncle.

‘Don’t people normally get married when they love each other?’ She wandered aloud, watching as Tyrion added a tablespoon of hot water to the bowl.

‘Often, yes, but… you can’t get married to someone if you’re already married to someone else.’

‘Oh…’ she said softly, trailing off in thought.

‘Uncle Tyrion?’ Myrcella said quietly after a while as she stirred the mixture, ‘is it bad that I’m not sad that Robert is not alive anymore? Am I a bad person for being happy that he’s gone?’

‘Not at all, sweetheart.’ He said softly, stopping what he was doing. ‘Just because a person dies, it doesn’t mean that you have to grieve them.’ He paused as he thought about what he wanted to say.

‘Robert did a lot of horrific things, to you, to Tommen and Joffrey, and especially to your mother.’ He continued. ‘He did things that should never have been allowed to happen, things that you should never have had to see or experience. Look at me Myrcella.’ He said gently as she slowly lifted her head up to meet his gaze, chewing her lip. His heart broke at her pain. ‘You could never be a bad person. You are the sweetest, loveliest, cleverest little girl I know, and you did not deserve what Robert did. You have every right to be happy, to be safe. Come here.’ He said, pulling her in for a tight hug.

‘You’re my favourite uncle, Uncle Tyrion.’ She said after a long pause.

‘Well, you’re my favourite niece.’

‘I’m your only niece.’ She protested, some of her fire returning.

‘I’m your only uncle. Well, sort of. Best not to think about it.’

She giggled softly.

‘What about Stannis and Renly?’

‘Doesn’t really count if you’re not actually related to them.’

‘Well, daddy is still technically my uncle too, so…’ she furrowed her brow in momentary confusion, before shrugging her shoulders. ‘You’re still my favourite uncle.’

‘But you’re really slow at making a cake.’ She added, picking up the wooden spoon again as he laughed. ‘Mummy can do it much quicker.’

His heart swelled as she smiled up at him, and in that moment Tyrion began to understand how his brother had felt all those years, separated from his children for the sake of reputation, unable to truly be a father to the innocent, sweet, spirited children who were so deserving of his love. He started to truly understand why Jaime had hated Robert so much, seeing him suck the life out of the four people he loved most in the world.

Just as his niece was stirring the mixture again, the click of the lock was heard, and Cersei entered into the apartment. With a happy gasp, Myrcella abandoned her task and ran towards her mother who scooped her up into her arms and placed a kiss to the top of her head.

Turning to face his sister, Tyrion caught Cersei’s gaze from across the room.

*****

Later, when the evening had well and truly fallen, they were all sat together in the living room; it seemed to Jaime to be a common occurrence of late, all of them lounging on the sofas, doing nothing much in particular, just escaping from the social sea that swarmed around them, threatening to pull them under.

Since Cersei had returned it had been a strangely quiet day; the news reports were indeed starting to pile up, and she had told them what had happened at the station, but aside from that, anyone could have been mistaken for thinking that it was a normal Sunday.

He was sure that it wouldn't last long.

‘Look! Look!’ Myrcella shouted suddenly, jumping up with excitement and running to the window. ‘Look! A shooting star!’

Tommen followed his sister and they all turned to look out the large window, the black night’s sky extending far and wide, as a bright sparkling light shot across the darkness, a glittering trail behind it.

‘You have to make a wish now.’ Tyrion said as Joffrey rolled his eyes and Cersei bit back an amused smile.

As Tommen scrunched his face up in concentration, Myrcella made her way over to Jaime, leaning close so she could tell him her wish.

‘I wish,’ she whispered softly into his ear as he leaned close to hear her, ‘for you and mummy to get married, and for all of us to go somewhere else where we can all be happy all the time.’

He kissed her head as she leaned back to look at him, before pulling her into his embrace.

Yes, he wished for that very much too.

He had wished for that his entire life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know if you think these chapters are far too long!  
> Also, I know nothing about hangovers, so... I tried my best :)


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